The professor during his talk had been arranging his car, a process I had been endeavoring to keep the run of without losing his conversation. He had erected a cab or house over the lower part or body of it, had fastened it down with a sort of clamps, that appeared to make the joints air tight, leaving open a small door on one side. The material of this cab was a thick leathery substance, evidently very tough and stiff and very transparent. He had also an instrument that I directly perceived was an air pump, for he used it in pumping air into a number of flasks—those that he had emptied, I suppose, on his trip down from the moon. As he filled them he placed them inside of the cab and having walked around and carefully inspected everything to his satisfaction, he paused and turned his great benignant eyes upon me in a hesitating manner that seemed to say that he had something more to tell me which nevertheless he hesitated to communicate. After a few moments he overcame his scruples if he had any, and reaching into one of his middle pockets he brought forth a thin piece of stuff resembling parchment covered on both sides by an adhesive substance like that used on postage stamps. In shape it was like the moon at its first quarter. He pressed this piece against his forehead and left it sticking there for only a moment then handed it to me with a gesture that appeared to indicate that I should press it against mine. I did this, but it did not stick and there came into my head a very strange and muddled sensation not unlike a headache. I pulled it off. The Professor was looking at me and evidently perceived my trouble, for he directed me by a gesture to turn it over. The effect of this was as wonderful as it was agreeable. The Professor seemed to me to be talking through a telephone and while I could not say that I understood him any better than by his usual method, it was, to me, a new method, and disclosed new faculties and possibilities showing in a new light the genius and versatility of this wonderful race.