“That is certainly a very pointed question. Questions of that kind are always in order when one is treating of ascertained verifiable facts, but just now, you know, we have wandered a little aside from the straight path of scientific exactitude. Still, I will be frank with you and say that I really possess no settled opinion concerning the former condition of the moon, except so far as what we may call its ‘geological’ history is revealed by its present state. I am sure that the moon was once the seat of tremendous volcanic action, and I think it not improbable that its great depressed plains were once occupied by water, but as to inhabitants, I know no more about them than you do. Still, I am disposed to think that, as we go on, _you_, at least, will reach the conclusion that all life has not yet disappeared from the moon. We are going to learn some very suggestive and significant things before we are through. “Farther toward the south and closer toward the terminator you will see in the photograph a third dark plain with five sides, the northern one convex and ill-defined. At its upper corner is an incomplete ring plain. This region bears a still more curious name than the _Mare Fœcunditatis_. It is the _Mare Nectaris_ or ‘Sea of Nectar.’” “Apparently your astronomers of old took the moon for an abode of the gods.” “Yes, or for their wine cellar. But we shall get a better look at the surroundings of this Sea of Nectar in a later photograph, and then I shall have more to tell you about it. In the meantime let us return to the _Mare Crisium_. To the east (right-hand side) of the _Mare Crisium_ you will observe a diamond-shaped district, not very dark, with a bright point at the corner which faces the _Mare_. You could never guess its name. It is called the _Palus Somnii_, which may be translated ‘Marsh of a Dream.’ It is a very singular place, and, seen with the telescope, possesses a color which is unique upon the moon, a kind of light brown, quite unlike the hue of any of the other plains or mountain regions. It is covered all over with short, low ridges, as if its surface had been broken up in a most irregular manner with a giant plow. What the person who named it saw there to lead him to connect it in his mind with dreams I have never been able to imagine. The bright point on its western edge is a remarkable crater mountain, named Proclus. What that mountain is made of nobody knows, but it gleams with extraordinary brilliance when the sun strikes it.” “Why may it not be snow-covered?”