“Go back to the earth, my brothers, and tell men to despair not in their conflict with evil; for God reigns, therefore the good will triumph. Tell them you found a race of happy beings here, not perfect, but aiming toward perfection, having escaped many of the perils that belong to an earlier stage of existence. The earth, too, will one day be old. Will it be happy then? Your generation can help to make it so. With our history to guide us, and with the knowledge you have given us of the earth’s present condition, we have high hopes of your race, and I venture the prediction that your world will see, in the near future, such an advance as you have never dreamed of. The era of a united effort to overthrow the evil forces is approaching, when all will press with eager, sincere hearts into the work, when money will be poured out like water, when men will begin to lose their selfishness and take each other by the hand as brothers, and when the dark places of the earth will grow bright with the light of the gospel. “I do not wonder you want to get back there. I hope I should have the same desire if I were in your place. What a time in which to live, with so much good work to do, and such encouragement and sure reward!” Thorwald’s enthusiasm made him eloquent, and we all regarded him intently as he spoke. How well I remember that group of persons: Proctor, the devout astronomer; the stalwart and earnest Foedric; Zenith, the queen of all womanly graces; and Thorwald himself, our friend and brother, the rich fruit of an advanced development. My companion and I were deeply impressed with the words we had heard, and could hardly realize that these friends were not aware that our life in Mars was nearly over, their farewells were so genuine. But, hark! Thorwald is still speaking: “Go back to the earth, I say, and--” a crash, a sensation of falling, a dull pain in my head, a new voice at my ear, saying, “Why, Walter, are you hurt?” During the effort to recover full consciousness I said: “There, Doctor, the accident you expected has certainly come.” And then I opened my eyes and discovered that I was sitting in an undignified position on the deck of a vessel of some kind. Again the voice, now more familiar and identified with a lovely face, said: “You must have had that broken chair; I knew it would let you down some time. Don’t you know me, Walter?” “Why, yes, it’s you, Margaret, isn’t it? But where’s the doctor?” “Oh, how are you hurt?” cried Margaret in alarm. “Tell me, and I will run for the doctor at once.”