I have come also to have an abiding interest in the creatures who by nature are inhabitants of this place. Long ago have I laid aside my gun as an instrument of destruction, and it rests now on its pegs above my pillow only as a defense. By slow degrees I have gained a confidence with the native birds and animals which surround me, so that it is wonderful how many of them welcome me and enjoy my presence. There swarm to my poultry fold at feeding time myriads of quail and other birds, who with an amusing assurance, run about my feet and dispute for the crumbs that I scatter. The gray squirrels may be often seen scampering down from their hiding places in the trees to meet me, in expectation of their accustomed relish of wheat grains, which are stowed away for them in my pockets. I have three pet deer, quite tame and domesticated, whose intimate acquaintance was brought about in a singular way. Sitting on my doorstep one bright afternoon, I had listened for some time to the baying of hounds in the neighboring mountains, when presently there came bounding toward me, in terror, a trembling doe, and with her beaming eyes fixed upon me, seeming to invoke my pity, she literally threw herself into my arms. Taking in the situation at a glance, I tried to force her into my door before the dogs arrived. Too late for that, I could only arm myself with a stick from my woodpile, when the whole yelping pack were upon us. It was a hard fight, and only after many bites and scratches from the disappointed hounds did I beat them off. I kept her in a secure outhouse for a few days, where two beautiful fawns were born to her; and ever since the mother and offspring have been my favorite pets, following me about like children. My acquaintance with other of the creatures about, though not so intimate, is still of such a confidential kind that they manifest no terror at my approach, and I am thus enabled to realize, by this free exhibition of them, how teeming with animal life is the earth in its most favored parts.
In my earlier years I have felt the cold blasts and torrid heats of other climes. I now rest myself in the happy satisfaction that I have found in this equable temperature and agreeable surroundings a place where one may look upon life as a blessing. I have acquired enough knowledge of some of the sciences to make an instrument or two of service to me, and I take especial interest in my telescope of three inches aperture, in the use of which I spend many an hour which otherwise might hang heavily on my hands. I have also a good microscope and field glass. Through the latter I bring to view the distant hillsides and mountain tops, observing, frequently, groups of deer grazing tranquilly, and at times a family of panthers gamboling on the green carpet of an opening, or an eagle feeding her young upon the inaccessible brink of a precipice; and on rarer occasions, a bear complacently munching acorns under some prolific old oak a mile away. My microscope has revealed to me a world of wonders. I have discovered by it the limitable range of our senses, and how far below as well as above us the infinite extends. I grope about in the darkness of my understanding between an atom and the outside limit of the stars, every step toward either showing an increase of distance. These things I pursue, not with the spirit and application of a student, but rather for the entertainment which they furnish and the meditation they invoke. I have learned all that is known of the motions and eccentricities of heavenly bodies within my telescopic vision, and I never look upon them without rapture. What are all other shows to this? How many of these countless worlds are inhabited? What beings are upon them? How do they compare with us? Has it been given to them to comprehend eternity? Is knowledge with them intuitive or acquired? Thus do I lose myself in these bewildering fancies.
It may appear that I have avoided my share in the cares and duties of human association. If I have, it is from no lack of sympathy with my kind. I look upon my fellow-men from my distant and somewhat isolated point of view, without the usual diversion of active affairs, and both my pity and admiration are aroused. The sufferings and sorrows of my kind seem appalling to me from this position, while their heroism in the struggle for knowledge seems to me grand beyond expression. I feel myself in the midst of civilization, and yet apart from it. If I have been a loser from that lack of social attrition which arouses the activities of thought, it is, nevertheless, certain that I have not been submitted to a combination of those influences which render an error plausible. The opinions and thoughts of the world come to me, and I pass them in review with a full sense of the fallibility of individual opinion, as well as an abiding faith in the steady approach of that collective truth, which, sooner or later, will overspread the world.
THE MAN FROM MARS.
CHAPTER I.
My telescope is mounted in an apartment adjoining my cabin, with an elevated exposure, and has some extra contrivances for the convenience of adjustment, designed and constructed by myself. The instrument can be raised and lowered at pleasure, and is protected by a movable dome, which is easily laid aside by means of a couple of pullies. It is a good one, and for its size has remarkable power. I have been enabled to reach with it double stars of the sixth magnitude, frequently observing even Orion, with its beautiful double and multiple systems. I can easily discover with it the most distant planet Neptune, and by their progressive displacement, I have seen and recognized with it most of the asteroids. I can get with it a fine view of Jupiter, that magnificent planet fourteen hundred times larger than our Earth, and have observed the black spots upon its surface, and the transit of its moons. The grand spectacle of Saturn and its rings is brought to my observation with remarkable clearness. I have so frequently looked into the dismal caverns and upon the towering mountains of our satellite, the Moon, that its marks and bounds are as familiar to me as the neighboring hills. But life is short, and amid all this illimitable sea of worlds, I have fixed my attention upon but one, for that special study which my few remaining years will permit. The heavenly body which most engages my attention is, excepting our satellite, the nearest one to us, our neighboring planet Mars.
I believe that body to be inhabited by beings in many respects like those of the earth. My conclusion is adduced from many known facts concerning it. Mars has an atmosphere like ours. Its density does not differ materially from the Earth. The heat it derives from the sun, possibly modified by atmospheric conditions, is quite likely the same as ours. It has zones of varying temperature, and seasons of summer and winter like the Earth. Its days are about the same length as ours. The ice and snow of its polar regions are plainly perceptible, and vary in arrears exactly in accordance with its changing positions and distances from the sun. From which we may infer, without a doubt, that its atmosphere contains moisture of the same chemical composition as ours, and is condensed into rain and snow as with us.