“Ah! how can you be a spirit without wings?” were her first unexpected words.

“But I am no spirit,” I said assuringly.

“You cannot be otherwise,” she insisted.

“Believe what you wish, we have no time for parley.  I am delighted to visit your world and I desire, if possible, to have some mysteries solved.  Can you help me?”

Plume, for that is the name I called her, was much unsettled.  She scanned my form with wild curiosity and I feared that she would at once use her wings at their swiftest.

“Pray do not fly hence,” I quickly urged.  “I will never harm you, even though we could converse together forever.  Believe me true, and rest your wings and heart in peace.”

My words had some effect toward calming her mind and with more placid features she still looked at me half shrinkingly.

“Are you not happy that you have wings with which fly?” I continued, hoping to create a more natural familiarity.

“Happy?  No more than for my feet, my ears, or my life,” she answered in a more composed manner.  “You say that you are from another world.  Where can that be?” was her welcome query.

Then I pointed my finger in the direction of our world and remarked: 

“If you could travel in that direction on swift wings day and night for a few millions of years, you would still be far, far away from the world where I live.”

“And is that world inhabited by sensible creatures?”

“It is.”

“But how could you have traversed so great a distance?”

“Never can I explain that mystery to you.  Be content that I am here.”

“Are you in the image of the other human creatures in that far away world?”

“In general they are all fashioned as I am.”

“No one having wings?” she added with surprise.

“Not one.”

“How can that be true?”

“Because we were made without them.”

“And have you no way of moving through the air at pleasure?”

“Not without artificial machinery.”

“Artificial machinery?” she repeated.  “What can you mean by that?”

Of course they have no word for balloon or flying machine, and I found it difficult to describe the shape and explain the philosophy of these things.  I did the best I could in her language, and after I had finished my description she for the first time smiled and said: 

“That sort of a construction would be a fine thing for the indolents of our world who, through misuse or lack of use of their wings, have no more ability to fly.”

This was interesting to me and I closely inquired as to the cause of this loss of the wing power.  Plume grew more and more familiar in her address and in a long conversation told me of the many conditions that make people unfit to fly.  I deduce from our conversation a few of these causes.

1.  Simple neglect.

2.  Gluttonous life.