Life in a Thousand Worlds | Page 9

called Newton, where I was thrilled with feelings of sublimity as never before. Outstretched lay the immense opening, nearly one hundred and fifty miles long and about seventy miles broad. It was fearful to gaze into it, for my eye stretched downward mile after mile until it reached the blackness of darkness. It frequently happens that a Moonite accidentally falls into this monster Newtonian chasm. Nothing more is ever seen or heard of him.
I shuddered as I peered into this gigantic opening whose gaping mouth could swallow Pike's Peak so that its highest point would be many thousands of feet below the surface. We have nothing on our Earth that can compare with this terribly imposing sight, and as I was studying the expansive waste I could more readily understand how large numbers of human beings could be destroyed by such fabulous quantities of boiling lava as were capable of being thrown from this pit. There is no doubt that the lava and ashes hurled from this crater alone would send a withering blast of death-dealing for many hundreds of miles around.
If you have never been privileged to look upon this ponderous chasm face to face, improve your first opportunity to get a glimpse of it through as powerful a telescope as possible.
CHAPTER III.
A Visit to Mars.
I need not describe the manner of my flight. It is enough to say that, to my delight, I reached our neighbor planet called Mars, and at once proceeded to study its physical features and its human life.
Everything was vastly different from what I had been long accustomed to see and to imagine, and I felt quite assured that I was living in a dream. But I knew of no way to convince myself as to my bearings, so I concluded to make the best use of my time and opportunities, and leave questionings to the future.
As a physical world Mars bears a most striking resemblance to our Earth. The length of its year is six hundred and eighty-seven of our days, and the length of its day is twenty-four hours and thirty-seven minutes. Its diameter is about one-half that of the Earth and its distance from the Sun is 142,000,000 miles. Even from our own world we can discern through a good telescope the changing colors of the planet, due to the recurring seasons, each one of which is almost twice the length of ours.
There is relatively much less water on Mars than is found on our Earth, and gravity on its surface is only thirty-eight per cent. of terrestrial gravity. Imagine, then, how light everything must be. This may account somewhat for the physical proportions of its inhabitants, for they are over twice our size, and in appearance resemble us but little. They have four arms, two extra ones extending from a point just above the knees. The two lower arms act as servants to the two higher. Thus are the four used at one time in harmony.
Mars is an older world than ours, and although it receives only one-half as much heat from the sun yet it is almost of the same temperature, owing to a peculiar condition of the atmosphere which we would call "heat retentivity."
Some scientists and philosophers will at once say that such atmospheric conditions are contrary to reason and natural law, but they must be informed that on Mars there are chemical elements and affinities not known in our world. It requires but little change in the elementary construction of the atmosphere to render it capable of strong heat-retaining properties.
Standing on the surface of this planet, my attention was easily attracted by the two frisky moons called Deimos and Phobos, at the small distance of 14,600 and 12,500 miles respectively. These two moons are constantly flying around the planet, one in about thirty hours and the other in seven and one-half hours.
The astronomers of Mars have discovered unmistakable signs of human life on the farthest of these two moons. They are hoping to be able some day to cover the intervening distance and for the first time see their old neighbors face to face.
Before I had traveled over one-half the surface of this planet I was thoroughly convinced that it was a rough, jagged world without lofty mountain ranges or peaks. The many long and narrow fertile valleys, much resembling the canons of our own Earth, absorbed my mind with more than passing interest. Looking carefully into one of these canon depressions, I saw a class of human beings in a low state of civilization; nevertheless, they were expert in agriculture and seemed to labor contentedly with a dull, plodding vigor beyond all reason.
According to appearances there seemed to be no social relation or connection between the inhabitants of one valley and those of another. At first