there were any guarantees for its continuance, or against its gradual abuse of the powers accorded to it.  This singular community elected therefore a single supreme magistrate styled Tur; he held his office nominally for life, but he could seldom be induced to retain it after the first approach of old age.  There was indeed in this society nothing to induce any of its members to covet the cares of office.  No honours, no insignia of higher rank, were assigned to it.  The supreme magistrate was not distinguished from the rest by superior habitation or revenue.  On the other hand, the duties awarded to him were marvellously light and easy, requiring no preponderant degree of energy or intelligence.  There being no apprehensions of war, there were no armies to maintain; there being no government of force, there was no police to appoint and direct.  What we call crime was utterly unknown to the Vril-ya; and there were no courts of criminal justice.  The rare instances of civil disputes were referred for arbitration to friends chosen by either party, or decided by the Council of Sages, which will be described later.  There were no professional lawyers; and indeed their laws were but amicable conventions, for there was no power to enforce laws against an offender who carried in his staff the power to destroy his judges.  There were customs and regulations to compliance with which, for several ages, the people had tacitly habituated themselves; or if in any instance an individual felt such compliance hard, he quitted the community and went elsewhere.  There was, in fact, quietly established amid this state, much the same compact that is found in our private families, in which we virtually say to any independent grown-up member of the family whom we receive to entertain, “Stay or go, according as our habits and regulations suit or displease you.”  But though there were no laws such as we call laws, no race above ground is so law-observing.  Obedience to the rule adopted by the community has become as much an instinct as if it were implanted by nature.  Even in every household the head of it makes a regulation for its guidance, which is never resisted nor even cavilled at by those who belong to the family.  They have a proverb, the pithiness of which is much lost in this paraphrase, “No happiness without order, no order without authority, no authority without unity.”  The mildness of all government among them, civil or domestic, may be signalised by their idiomatic expressions for such terms as illegal or forbidden—­viz., “It is requested not to do so and so.”  Poverty among the Ana is as unknown as crime; not that property is held in common, or that all are equals in the extent of their possessions or the size and luxury of their habitations:  but there being no difference of rank or position between the grades of wealth or the choice of occupations, each pursues his own inclinations without creating envy or vying; some like a modest, some a more splendid kind of life; each makes himself