“There are reasons,” Mein Herr gently replied, “reasons which I am not at liberty to explain, for not mentioning _definitely_ any Persons, Places, or Dates. One remark only I will permit myself to make—that the period of life, between the ages of a hundred-and-sixty-five and a hundred-and-seventy-five, is a specially _safe_ one.” “How do you make that out?” I said. “Thus. You would consider swimming to be a very safe amusement, if you scarcely ever heard of any one dying of it. Am I not right in thinking that you never heard of any one dying between those two ages?” “I see what you mean,” I said: “but I’m afraid you ca’n’t prove _swimming_ to be safe, on the same principle. It is no uncommon thing to hear of some one being _drowned_.” “In _my_ country,” said Mein Herr, “no one is _ever_ drowned.” “Is there no water deep enough?” “Plenty! But we ca’n’t _sink_. We are all _lighter than water_. Let me explain,” he added, seeing my look of surprise. “Suppose you desire a race of _pigeons_ of a particular shape or colour, do you not select, from year to year, those that are nearest to the shape or colour you want, and keep those, and part with the others?” “We do,” I replied. “We call it ‘Artificial Selection.’” “Exactly so,” said Mein Herr. “Well, _we_ have practised that for some centuries—constantly selecting the _lightest_ people: so that, now, _everybody_ is lighter than water.” “Then you never can be drowned at _sea_?” “Never! It is only on the _land_—for instance, when attending a play in a theatre—that we are in such a danger.” “How can that happen at a _theatre_?” “Our theatres are all _underground_. Large tanks of water are placed above. If a fire breaks out, the taps are turned, and in one minute the theatre is flooded, up to the very roof! Thus the fire is extinguished.” “_And_ the audience, I presume?” “That is a minor matter,” Mein Herr carelessly replied. “But they have the comfort of knowing that, whether drowned or not, they are all _lighter than water_. We have not yet reached the standard of making people lighter than _air_: but we are _aiming_ at it; and, in another thousand years or so——” “What doos oo do wiz the peoples that’s too heavy?” Bruno solemnly enquired. “We have applied the same process,” Mein Herr continued, not noticing Bruno’s question, “to many other purposes. We have gone on selecting _walking-sticks_—always keeping those that walked _best_—till we have obtained some, that can walk by themselves! We have gone on selecting _cotton-wool_, till we have got some lighter than air! You’ve no idea what a useful material it is! We call it ‘Imponderal.’” “What do you use it for?” “Well, chiefly for _packing_ articles, to go by Parcel-Post. It makes them weigh _less than nothing_, you know.” “And how do the Post-Office people know what you have to pay?”