“Thus he would discourse.  Imagine him explaining his artist.

“’M’m—­M’m—­he—­if I may say—­draw.  Eat little—­drink little—­draw.  Love draw.  No other thing.  Hate all who not draw like him.  Angry.  Hate all who draw like him better.  Hate most people.  Hate all who not think all world for to draw.  Angry.  M’m.  All things mean nothing to him—­only draw.  He like you ... if you understand....  New thing to draw.  Ugly—­striking.  Eh?

“’He’—­turning to Tsi-puff—­’love remember words.  Remember wonderful more than any.  Think no, draw no—­remember.  Say’—­here he referred to his gifted assistant for a word—­’histories—­all things.  He hear once—­say ever.’

“It is more wonderful to me than I dreamt that anything ever could be again, to hear, in this perpetual obscurity, these extraordinary creatures—­for even familiarity fails to weaken the inhuman effect of their appearance—­continually piping a nearer approach to coherent earthly speech—­asking questions, giving answers.  I feel that I am casting back to the fable-hearing period of childhood again, when the ant and the grasshopper talked together and the bee judged between them...”

And while these linguistic exercises were going on Cavor seems to have experienced a considerable relaxation of his confinement.  “The first dread and distrust our unfortunate conflict aroused is being,” he said, “continually effaced by the deliberate rationality of all I do....  I am now able to come and go as I please, or I am restricted only for my own good.  So it is I have been able to get at this apparatus, and, assisted by a happy find among the material that is littered in this enormous store-cave, I have contrived to despatch these messages.  So far not the slightest attempt has been made to interfere with me in this, though I have made it quite clear to Phi-oo that I am signalling to the earth.

“‘You talk to other?’ he asked, watching me.

“‘Others,’ said I.

“‘Others,’ he said.  ‘Oh yes, Men?’

“And I went on transmitting.”

Cavor was continually making corrections in his previous accounts of the Selenites as fresh facts flowed upon him to modify his conclusions, and accordingly one gives the quotations that follow with a certain amount of reservation.  They are quoted from the ninth, thirteenth, and sixteenth messages, and, altogether vague and fragmentary as they are, they probably give as complete a picture of the social life of this strange community as mankind can now hope to have for many generations.

“In the moon,” says Cavor, “every citizen knows his place.  He is born to that place, and the elaborate discipline of training and education and surgery he undergoes fits him at last so completely to it that he has neither ideas nor organs for any purpose beyond it.  ‘Why should he?’ Phi-oo would ask.  If, for example, a Selenite is destined to be a mathematician, his teachers and trainers set out at once to that end.  They check