"Is Elodia's club a literary one?" I asked, though I was almost sure it was not. "O, no; it is for recreation purely, as I said. The same kind of a club, I suppose, that you men have. Of course, they have the current literature, which they skim over and discuss, so as to keep themselves informed about what is going on in the world. It is the only way you can keep up with the times, I think, for no one can read everything. They have games and various diversions. Elodia's clubhouse is furnished with elegant baths, for women have an extraordinary fondness for bathing. And they have a gymnasium,--you notice what splendid figures most of our women have!--and of course a wine cellar." "Severnius!" I cried. "You don't mean to tell me that these women have wines in their clubhouse?" "Why, yes," said he. "And it is tolerated, allowed, nobody objects?" "O, yes, there are plenty of objectors," he replied. "There is a very strong anti-intoxicant element here, but it has no actual force and exerts but little influence in--in our circles." Severnius was too modest a man to boast of belonging to the upper class of society, but that was what "our circles" meant. "But do not the male relatives of these women object,--their husbands, fathers, brothers?" "No, indeed, why should they? We do the same things they do, without demur from them." "But they should be looking after their domestic affairs, their children, their homes." "My dear sir! they have servants to attend to those matters." It seemed useless to discuss these things with Severnius, his point of view concerning the woman question was so different from mine. Nevertheless, I persisted. "Tell me, Severnius, do women on this planet do everything that men do?" "They have that liberty," he replied, "but there is sometimes a difference of tastes." "I am glad to hear it!" "For instance, they do not smoke. By the way, have a cigar?" He passed me his case and we both fired up. There is a peculiarly delightful flavor in Marsian tobacco. "They have a substitute though," he added, removing the fragrant weed from his lips to explain. "They vaporize." "They what?" "They have a small cup, a little larger than a common tobacco pipe, which they fill with alcohol and pulverized valerian root. This mixture when lighted diffuses a kind of vapor, a portion of which they inhale through the cup-stem, a slender, tortuous tube attached to the cup. The most of it, however, goes into the general air." "Good heavens!" I cried, "valerian! the most infernal, diabolical smell that was ever emitted from any known or unknown substance." "It is said to be soothing to the nerves," he replied. "But do you not find it horribly disagreeable, unbearable?" I suddenly recollected that, in passing through the upper hall of the house, I had once or twice detected this nauseating odor, in the neighborhood of Elodia's suite of rooms.