The Germ Growers: An Australian story of adventure and mystery — John Shaqi
The Germ Growers: An Australian story of adventure and mysteryPotter, Robert
Science
The Germ Growers: An Australian story of adventure and mystery
Potter, Robert
Science fiction, Australian
_Furniss._ Just as my cousins have bred those wild beasts of theirs
out of such harmless creatures as poor Tommy’s ancestors.
_Leopold._ Just so.
_Furniss._ And you think that we can contend successfully against such
enemies.
_Leopold._ Why not? They can only have nature to work upon. And very
likely their only advantage over us is that they know more of nature
than we do. They cannot go beyond the limits of nature to do less or
more. As long as we sought after spells and enchantments and that sort
of nonsense we were very much at their mercy. But we are now learning
to fight them with their own weapons, which consist of the knowledge
of nature. Witness vaccination, and witness also our little victory
over the red sickness.
_Furniss._ You’re a queer mixture, Leopold, but we must get back to
the picnic people.
And so they got up and went back together to the dancers, nodding to
me as they went. I sat there for awhile, going over and over the
conversation in my mind and putting together my own thoughts and
Mr. Leopold’s.
Then I joined the company and was merry as the merriest for the
remainder of the day. But that night I dreamt of strange-looking
clouds and of the shadows of invisible cars, and of demons riding in
the cars and sowing the seeds of pestilence on the earth and catching
away such evil specimens of humanity as James Redpath to reinforce the
ranks of their own malignant order.
CHAPTER III.
AT SEA.
It is my purpose to pass briefly over everything in my own history
which does not concern the tale that I have to tell, and there is very
little therefore for me to say about the seven or eight years which
followed upon the events at Penruddock which I have just recorded.
I went in due course to Oxford, where I stayed the usual time. I did
not make any great failures there, nor did I gain much distinction.
I was a diligent reader, but much of my reading was outside the
regulation lines. The literature of my own country, the poetry of
mediæval Italy, and the philosophy of modern Germany, more than
divided my attention with classics and mathematics. Novels, mostly of
the sensational type, amused me in vacations and on holidays, but very
seldom found their way into my working days.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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