A Journey in Other Worlds [113]
reptiles, winged serpents that sing most beautifully, but
whose blood is cold, being prevented from freezing in the upper
regions of the atmosphere by the presence of salt and chemicals,
and which are so intelligent that they have practically subdued
many of these dark stars to themselves. On others, the most
highly developed species have hollow, bell-shaped tentacles, into
which they inject two or more opposing gases from opposite sides
of their bodies, which, in combination, produce a strong
explosion. This provides them with an easy and rapid locomotion,
since the explosions find a sufficient resistance in the
surrounding air to propel the monsters much faster than birds.
These can at pleasure make their breath so poisonous that the
lungs of any creatures except themselves inhaling it are at once
turned to parchment. Others can give their enemies or their prey
an electric shock, sending a bolt through the heart, or can
paralyze the mind physically by an effort of their wills, causing
the brain to decompose while the victim is still alive. Others
have the same power that snakes have, though vastly intensified,
mesmerizing their victims from afar.
"Still others have such delicate senses that in a way they
commune with spirits, though they have no souls themselves; for
in no part or corner of the universe except on earth are there
animals that have souls. Yet they know the meaning of the word,
and often bewail their hard lot in that no part of them can live
when the heart has ceased to beat.
"Ah, my friends, if we had no souls--if, like the aesthetic
reptilia, we knew that when our dust dissolved our existence
would be over--we should realize the preciousness of what we hold
so lightly now. Man and the spirits and angels are the only
beings with souls, and in no place except on earth are new souls
being created. This gives you the greatest and grandest idea of
the dignity of life and its inestimable value. But it is as
difficult to describe the higher wonders of the stellar worlds to
you as to picture the glories of sunset to a blind man, for you
have experienced nothing with which to compare them. Instead of
seeing all that really is, you see but a small part."
CHAPTER IX.
DOCTOR CORTLANDT SEES HIS GRAVE.
"Is it not distasteful to you," Cortlandt asked, "to live so near
these loathsome dragons?"
"Not in the least," replied the spirit. "They affect us no more
than the smallest micro-organism, for we see both with equal
clearness. Since we are not obliged to breathe, they cannot
injure us; and, besides, they serve to illustrate the working of
God's laws, and there is beauty in everything for those that have
the senses required for perceiving it. A feature of the
spiritual world is, that it does not interfere with the natural,
and the natural, except through faith, is not aware of its
presence."
"Then why," asked Cortlandt, "was it necessary for the Almighty
to bring your souls to Saturn, since there would have been no
overcrowding if you had remained on the earth?"
"That," replied the spirit, "was part of His wisdom; for the
spirit, being able at once to look back into the natural world,
if in it, would be troubled at the mistakes and tribulations of
his friends. Now, as a rule, before a spirit can return to
earth, his or her relatives and friends have also died; or, if he
can return before that happens, he is so advanced that he sees
the ulterior purpose, and therefore the wisdom of God's ways, and
is not distressed thereby. Lastly, as their expanding senses
grew, it would be painful for the blessed and condemned spirits
to be together. Therefore we are brought here, where God reveals
Himself to us more and more, and the flight of the other
souls--those unhappy ones--does not cease till they reach
Cassandra."
"Can the souls on Cassandra also leave it in time and roam at
will?" asked Cortlandt.
"I have seen none of them myself in my journeys to other
whose blood is cold, being prevented from freezing in the upper
regions of the atmosphere by the presence of salt and chemicals,
and which are so intelligent that they have practically subdued
many of these dark stars to themselves. On others, the most
highly developed species have hollow, bell-shaped tentacles, into
which they inject two or more opposing gases from opposite sides
of their bodies, which, in combination, produce a strong
explosion. This provides them with an easy and rapid locomotion,
since the explosions find a sufficient resistance in the
surrounding air to propel the monsters much faster than birds.
These can at pleasure make their breath so poisonous that the
lungs of any creatures except themselves inhaling it are at once
turned to parchment. Others can give their enemies or their prey
an electric shock, sending a bolt through the heart, or can
paralyze the mind physically by an effort of their wills, causing
the brain to decompose while the victim is still alive. Others
have the same power that snakes have, though vastly intensified,
mesmerizing their victims from afar.
"Still others have such delicate senses that in a way they
commune with spirits, though they have no souls themselves; for
in no part or corner of the universe except on earth are there
animals that have souls. Yet they know the meaning of the word,
and often bewail their hard lot in that no part of them can live
when the heart has ceased to beat.
"Ah, my friends, if we had no souls--if, like the aesthetic
reptilia, we knew that when our dust dissolved our existence
would be over--we should realize the preciousness of what we hold
so lightly now. Man and the spirits and angels are the only
beings with souls, and in no place except on earth are new souls
being created. This gives you the greatest and grandest idea of
the dignity of life and its inestimable value. But it is as
difficult to describe the higher wonders of the stellar worlds to
you as to picture the glories of sunset to a blind man, for you
have experienced nothing with which to compare them. Instead of
seeing all that really is, you see but a small part."
CHAPTER IX.
DOCTOR CORTLANDT SEES HIS GRAVE.
"Is it not distasteful to you," Cortlandt asked, "to live so near
these loathsome dragons?"
"Not in the least," replied the spirit. "They affect us no more
than the smallest micro-organism, for we see both with equal
clearness. Since we are not obliged to breathe, they cannot
injure us; and, besides, they serve to illustrate the working of
God's laws, and there is beauty in everything for those that have
the senses required for perceiving it. A feature of the
spiritual world is, that it does not interfere with the natural,
and the natural, except through faith, is not aware of its
presence."
"Then why," asked Cortlandt, "was it necessary for the Almighty
to bring your souls to Saturn, since there would have been no
overcrowding if you had remained on the earth?"
"That," replied the spirit, "was part of His wisdom; for the
spirit, being able at once to look back into the natural world,
if in it, would be troubled at the mistakes and tribulations of
his friends. Now, as a rule, before a spirit can return to
earth, his or her relatives and friends have also died; or, if he
can return before that happens, he is so advanced that he sees
the ulterior purpose, and therefore the wisdom of God's ways, and
is not distressed thereby. Lastly, as their expanding senses
grew, it would be painful for the blessed and condemned spirits
to be together. Therefore we are brought here, where God reveals
Himself to us more and more, and the flight of the other
souls--those unhappy ones--does not cease till they reach
Cassandra."
"Can the souls on Cassandra also leave it in time and roam at
will?" asked Cortlandt.
"I have seen none of them myself in my journeys to other