In the Year 2889

 

 

IN THE YEAR 2889

[Redactor's note: _In the Year 2889_ was first published in the_Forum_, February, 1889; p. 262. It was published in France the nextyear. Although published under the name of Jules Verne, it is nowbelieved to be chiefly if not entirely the work of Jules' son, MichelVerne. In any event, many of the topics in the article echo Verne'sideas. ]

IN THE YEAR 2889.

Little though they seem to think of it, the people of this twenty-ninthcentury live continually in fairyland. Surfeited as they are withmarvels, they are indifferent in presence of each new marvel. To themall seems natural. Could they but duly appreciate the refinements ofcivilization in our day; could they but compare the present with thepast, and so better comprehend the advance we have made! How much fairerthey would find our modern towns, with populations amounting sometimesto 10, 000, 000 souls; their streets 300 feet wide, their houses 1000 feetin height; with a temperature the same in all seasons; with their linesof a�rial locomotion crossing the sky in every direction! If they wouldbut picture to themselves the state of things that once existed, whenthrough muddy streets rumbling boxes on wheels, drawn by horses--yes, byhorses!--were the only means of conveyance. Think of the railroads ofthe olden time, and you will be able to appreciate the pneumatic tubesthrough which to-day one travels at the rate of 1000 miles an hour. Would not our contemporaries prize the telephone and the telephote morehighly if they had not forgotten the telegraph?

Singularly enough, all these transformations rest upon principles whichwere perfectly familiar to our remote ancestors, but which theydisregarded. Heat, for instance, is as ancient as man himself;electricity was known 3000 years ago, and steam 1100 years ago. Nay, soearly as ten centuries ago it was known that the differences between theseveral chemical and physical forces depend on the mode of vibration ofthe etheric particles, which is for each specifically different. When atlast the kinship of all these forces was discovered, it is simplyastounding that 500 years should still have to elapse before men couldanalyze and describe the several modes of vibration that constitutethese differences. Above all, it is singular that the mode ofreproducing these forces directly from one another, and of reproducingone without the others, should have remained undiscovered till less thana hundred years ago. Nevertheless, such was the course of events, for itwas not till the year 2792 that the famous Oswald Nier made this greatdiscovery.

Truly was he a great benefactor of the human race. His admirablediscovery led to many another. Hence is sprung a pleiad of inventors, its brightest star being our great Joseph Jackson. To Jackson we areindebted for those wonderful instruments the new accumulators. Some ofthese absorb and condense the living force contained in the sun's rays;others, the electricity stored in our globe; others again, the energycoming from whatever source, as a waterfall, a stream, the winds, etc. He, too, it was that invented the transformer, a more wonderfulcontrivance still, which takes the living force from the accumulator, and, on the simple pressure of a button, gives it back to space inwhatever form may be desired, whether as heat, light, electricity, ormechanical force, after having first obtained from it the work required. From the day when these two instruments were contrived is to be datedthe era of true progress. They have put into the hands of man a powerthat is almost infinite. As for their applications, they are numberless. Mitigating the rigors of winter, by giving back to the atmosphere thesurplus heat stored up during the summer, they have revolutionizedagriculture. By supplying motive power for a�rial navigation, they havegiven to commerce a mighty impetus. To them we are indebted for thecontinuous production of electricity without batteries or dynamos, oflight without combustion or incandescence, and for an unfailing supplyof mechanical energy for all the needs of industry.

Yes, all these wonders have been wrought by the accumulator and thetransformer. And can we not to them also trace, indirectly, this latestwonder of all, the great "Earth Chronicle" building in 253d Avenue, which was dedicated the other day? If George Washington Smith, thefounder of the Manhattan "Chronicle", should come back to life to-day, what would he think were he to be told that this palace of marble andgold belongs to his remote descendant, Fritz Napoleon Smith, who, afterthirty generations have come and gone, is owner of the same newspaperwhich his ancestor established!

For George Washington Smith's newspaper has lived generation aftergeneration, now passing out of the family, anon coming back to it. When, 200 years ago, the political center of the United States was transferredfrom Washington to Centropolis, the newspaper followed the governmentand assumed the name of Earth Chronicle. Unfortunately, it was unable tomaintain itself at the high level of its name. Pressed on all sides byrival journals of a more modern type, it was continually in danger ofcollapse. Twenty years ago its subscription list contained but a fewhundred thousand names, and then Mr. Fritz Napoleon Smith bought it fora mere trifle, and originated telephonic journalism.

Every one is familiar with Fritz Napoleon Smith's system--a system madepossible by the enormous development of telephony during the lasthundred years. Instead of being printed, the Earth Chronicle is everymorning spoken to subscribers, who, in interesting conversations withreporters, statesmen, and scientists, learn the news of the day. Furthermore, each subscriber owns a phonograph, and to this instrumenthe leaves the task of gathering the news whenever he happens not to bein a mood to listen directly himself. As for purchasers of singlecopies, they can at a very trifling cost learn all that is in the paperof the day at any of the innumerable phonographs set up nearlyeverywhere.

Fritz Napoleon Smith's innovation galvanized the old newspaper. In thecourse of a few years the number of subscribers grew to be 80, 000, 000, and Smith's wealth went on growing, till now it reaches the almostunimaginable figure of $10, 000, 000, 000. This lucky hit has enabled himto erect his new building, a vast edifice with four _fa�ades_ each 3, 250feet in length, over which proudly floats the hundred-starred flag ofthe Union. Thanks to the same lucky hit, he is to-day king ofnewspaperdom; indeed, he would be king of all the Americans, too, ifAmericans could ever accept a king. You do not believe it? Well, then, look at the plenipotentiaries of all nations and our own ministersthemselves crowding about his door, entreating his counsels, begging forhis approbation, imploring the aid of his all-powerful organ. Reckon upthe number of scientists and artists that he supports, of inventors thathe has under his pay.

Yes, a king is he. And in truth his is a royalty full of burdens. Hislabors are incessant, and there is no doubt at all that in earlier timesany man would have succumbed under the overpowering stress of the toilwhich Mr. Smith has to perform. Very fortunately for him, thanks to theprogress of hygiene, which, abating all the old sources ofunhealthfulness, has lifted the mean of human life from 37 up to 52years, men have stronger constitutions now than heretofore. Thediscovery of nutritive air is still in the future, but in the meantimemen today consume food that is compounded and prepared according toscientific principles, and they breathe an atmosphere freed from themicro-organisms that formerly used to swarm in it; hence they livelonger than their forefathers and know nothing of the innumerablediseases of olden times.

Nevertheless, and notwithstanding these considerations, Fritz NapoleonSmith's mode of life may well astonish one. His iron constitution istaxed to the utmost by the heavy strain that is put upon it. Vain theattempt to estimate the amount of labor he undergoes; an example alonecan give an idea of it. Let us then go about with him for one day as heattends to his multifarious concernments. What day? That matters little;it is the same every day. Let us then take at random September 25th ofthis present year 2889.

This morning Mr. Fritz Napoleon Smith awoke in very bad humor. His wifehaving left for France eight days ago, he was feeling disconsolate. Incredible though it seems, in all the ten years since their marriage, this is the first time that Mrs. Edith Smith, the professional beauty, has been so long absent from home; two or three days usually suffice forher frequent trips to Europe. The first thing that Mr. Smith does is toconnect his phonotelephote, the wires of which communicate with hisParis mansion. The telephote! Here is another of the great triumphs ofscience in our time. The transmission of speech is an old story; thetransmission of images by means of sensitive mirrors connected by wiresis a thing but of yesterday. A valuable invention indeed, and Mr. Smiththis morning was not niggard of blessings for the inventor, when by itsaid he was able distinctly to see his wife notwithstanding the distancethat separated him from her. Mrs. Smith, weary after the ball or thevisit to the theater the preceding night, is still abed, though it isnear noontide at Paris. She is asleep, her head sunk in the lace-coveredpillows. What? She stirs? Her lips move. She is dreaming perhaps? Yes, dreaming. She is talking, pronouncing a name his name--Fritz! Thedelightful vision gave a happier turn to Mr. Smith's thoughts. And now, at the call of imperative duty, light-hearted he springs from his bedand enters his mechanical dresser.

Two minutes later the machine deposited him all dressed at the thresholdof his office. The round of journalistic work was now begun. First heenters the hall of the novel-writers, a vast apartment crowned with anenormous transparent cupola. In one corner is a telephone, through whicha hundred Earth Chronicle _litt�rateurs_ in turn recount to the publicin daily installments a hundred novels. Addressing one of these authorswho was waiting his turn, "Capital! Capital! my dear fellow, " said he, "your last story. The scene where the village maid discusses interestingphilosophical problems with her lover shows your very acute power ofobservation. Never have the ways of country folk been better portrayed. Keep on, my dear Archibald, keep on! Since yesterday, thanks to you, there is a gain of 5000 subscribers. "

"Mr. John Last, " he began again, turning to a new arrival, "I am not sowell pleased with your work. Your story is not a picture of life; itlacks the elements of truth. And why? Simply because you run straight onto the end; because you do not analyze. Your heroes do this thing orthat from this or that motive, which you assign without ever a thoughtof dissecting their mental and moral natures. Our feelings, you mustremember, are far more complex than all that. In real life every act isthe resultant of a hundred thoughts that come and go, and these you muststudy, each by itself, if you would create a living character. 'But, 'you will say, 'in order to note these fleeting thoughts one must knowthem, must be able to follow them in their capricious meanderings. ' Why, any child can do that, as you know. You have simply to make use ofhypnotism, electrical or human, which gives one a two-fold being, setting free the witness-personality so that it may see, understand, andremember the reasons which determine the personality that acts. Juststudy yourself as you live from day to day, my dear Last. Imitate yourassociate whom I was complimenting a moment ago. Let yourself behypnotized. What's that? You have tried it already? Not sufficiently, then, not sufficiently!"

Mr. Smith continues his round and enters the reporters' hall. Here 1500reporters, in their respective places, facing an equal number oftelephones, are communicating to the subscribers the news of the worldas gathered during the night. The organization of this matchless servicehas often been described. Besides his telephone, each reporter, as thereader is aware, has in front of him a set of commutators, which enablehim to communicate with any desired telephotic line. Thus thesubscribers not only hear the news but see the occurrences. When anincident is described that is already past, photographs of its mainfeatures are transmitted with the narrative. And there is no confusionwithal. The reporters' items, just like the different stories and allthe other component parts of the journal, are classified automaticallyaccording to an ingenious system, and reach the hearer in duesuccession. Furthermore, the hearers are free to listen only to whatspecially concerns them. They may at pleasure give attention to oneeditor and refuse it to another.

Mr. Smith next addresses one of the ten reporters in the astronomicaldepartment--a department still in the embryonic stage, but which willyet play an important part in journalism.

"Well, Cash, what's the news?"

"We have phototelegrams from Mercury, Venus, and Mars. "

"Are those from Mars of any interest?"

"Yes, indeed. There is a revolution in the Central Empire. "

"And what of Jupiter?" asked Mr. Smith.

"Nothing as yet. We cannot quite understand their signals. Perhaps oursdo not reach them. "

"That's bad, " exclaimed Mr. Smith, as he hurried away, not in the bestof humor, toward the hall of the scientific editors.

With their heads bent down over their electric computers, thirtyscientific men were absorbed in transcendental calculations. The comingof Mr. Smith was like the falling of a bomb among them.

"Well, gentlemen, what is this I hear? No answer from Jupiter? Is italways to be thus? Come, Cooley, you have been at work now twenty yearson this problem, and yet--"

"True enough, " replied the man addressed. "Our science of optics isstill very defective, and though our mile-and-three-quarter telescopes. "

"Listen to that, Peer, " broke in Mr. Smith, turning to a secondscientist. "Optical science defective! Optical science is yourspecialty. But, " he continued, again addressing William Cooley, "failingwith Jupiter, are we getting any results from the moon?"

"The case is no better there. "

"This time you do not lay the blame on the science of optics. The moonis immeasurably less distant than Mars, yet with Mars our communicationis fully established. I presume you will not say that you lacktelescopes?"

"Telescopes? O no, the trouble here is about inhabitants!"

"That's it, " added Peer.

"So, then, the moon is positively uninhabited?" asked Mr. Smith.

"At least, " answered Cooley, "on the face which she presents to us. Asfor the opposite side, who knows?"

"Ah, the opposite side! You think, then, " remarked Mr. Smith, musingly, "that if one could but--"

"Could what?"

"Why, turn the moon about-face. "

"Ah, there's something in that, " cried the two men at once. And indeed, so confident was their air, they seemed to have no doubt as to thepossibility of success in such an undertaking.

"Meanwhile, " asked Mr. Smith, after a moment's silence, "have you nonews of interest to-day?"

"Indeed we have, " answered Cooley. "The elements of Olympus aredefinitively settled. That great planet gravitates beyond Neptune at themean distance of 11, 400, 799, 642 miles from the sun, and to traverse itsvast orbit takes 1311 years, 294 days, 12 hours, 43 minutes, 9 seconds. "

"Why didn't you tell me that sooner?" cried Mr. Smith. "Now inform thereporters of this straightaway. You know how eager is the curiosity ofthe public with regard to these astronomical questions. That news mustgo into to-day's issue. "

Then, the two men bowing to him, Mr. Smith passed into the next hall, anenormous gallery upward of 3200 feet in length, devoted to atmosphericadvertising. Every one has noticed those enormous advertisementsreflected from the clouds, so large that they may be seen by thepopulations of whole cities or even of entire countries. This, too, isone of Mr. Fritz Napoleon Smith's ideas, and in the Earth Chroniclebuilding a thousand projectors are constantly engaged in displaying uponthe clouds these mammoth advertisements.

When Mr. Smith to-day entered the sky-advertising department, he foundthe operators sitting with folded arms at their motionless projectors, and inquired as to the cause of their inaction. In response, the manaddressed simply pointed to the sky, which was of a pure blue. "Yes, "muttered Mr. Smith, "a cloudless sky! That's too bad, but what's to bedone? Shall we produce rain? That we might do, but is it of any use?What we need is clouds, not rain. Go, " said he, addressing the headengineer, "go see Mr. Samuel Mark, of the meteorological division of thescientific department, and tell him for me to go to work in earnest onthe question of artificial clouds. It will never do for us to be alwaysthus at the mercy of cloudless skies!"

Mr. Smith's daily tour through the several departments of his newspaperis now finished. Next, from the advertisement hall he passes to thereception chamber, where the ambassadors accredited to the Americangovernment are awaiting him, desirous of having a word of counsel oradvice from the all-powerful editor. A discussion was going on when heentered. "Your Excellency will pardon me, " the French Ambassador wassaying to the Russian, "but I see nothing in the map of Europe thatrequires change. 'The North for the Slavs?' Why, yes, of course; but theSouth for the Matins. Our common frontier, the Rhine, it seems to me, serves very well. Besides, my government, as you must know, will firmlyoppose every movement, not only against Paris, our capital, or our twogreat prefectures, Rome and Madrid, but also against the kingdom ofJerusalem, the dominion of Saint Peter, of which France means to be thetrusty defender. "

"Well said!" exclaimed Mr. Smith. "How is it, " he asked, turning to theRussian ambassador, "that you Russians are not content with your vastempire, the most extensive in the world, stretching from the banks ofthe Rhine to the Celestial Mountains and the Kara-Korum, whose shoresare washed by the Frozen Ocean, the Atlantic, the Mediterranean, and theIndian Ocean? Then, what is the use of threats? Is war possible in viewof modern inventions-asphyxiating shells capable of being projected adistance of 60 miles, an electric spark of 90 miles, that can at onestroke annihilate a battalion; to say nothing of the plague, thecholera, the yellow fever, that the belligerents might spread amongtheir antagonists mutually, and which would in a few days destroy thegreatest armies?"

"True, " answered the Russian; "but can we do all that we wish? As for usRussians, pressed on our eastern frontier by the Chinese, we must at anycost put forth our strength for an effort toward the west. "

"O, is that all? In that case, " said Mr. Smith, "the thing can bearranged. I will speak to the Secretary of State about it. The attentionof the Chinese government shall be called to the matter. This is not thefirst time that the Chinese have bothered us. "

"Under these conditions, of course--" And the Russian ambassadordeclared himself satisfied.

"Ah, Sir John, what can I do for you?" asked Mr. Smith as he turned tothe representative of the people of Great Britain, who till now hadremained silent.

"A great deal, " was the reply. "If the Earth Chronicle would but open acampaign on our behalf--"

"And for what object?"

"Simply for the annulment of the Act of Congress annexing to the UnitedStates the British islands. "

Though, by a just turn-about of things here below, Great Britain hasbecome a colony of the United States, the English are not yet reconciledto the situation. At regular intervals they are ever addressing to theAmerican government vain complaints.

"A campaign against the annexation that has been an accomplished factfor 150 years!" exclaimed Mr. Smith. "How can your people suppose thatI would do anything so unpatriotic?"

"We at home think that your people must now be sated. The Monroedoctrine is fully applied; the whole of America belongs to theAmericans. What more do you want? Besides, we will pay for what we ask. "

"Indeed!" answered Mr. Smith, without manifesting the slightestirritation. "Well, you English will ever be the same. No, no, Sir John, do not count on me for help. Give up our fairest province, Britain? Whynot ask France generously to renounce possession of Africa, thatmagnificent colony the complete conquest of which cost her the labor of800 years? You will be well received!"

"You decline! All is over then!" murmured the British agent sadly. "TheUnited Kingdom falls to the share of the Americans; the Indies to thatof--"

"The Russians, " said Mr. Smith, completing the sentence.

"Australia--"

"Has an independent government. "

"Then nothing at all remains for us!" sighed Sir John, downcast.

"Nothing?" asked Mr. Smith, laughing. "Well, now, there's Gibraltar!"

With this sally, the audience ended. The clock was striking twelve, thehour of breakfast. Mr. Smith returns to his chamber. Where the bed stoodin the morning a table all spread comes up through the floor. For Mr. Smith, being above all a practical man; has reduced the problem ofexistence to its simplest terms. For him, instead of the endless suitesof apartments of the olden time, one room fitted with ingeniousmechanical contrivances is enough. Here he sleeps, takes his meals, inshort, lives.

He seats himself. In the mirror of the phonotelephote is seen the samechamber at Paris which appeared in it this morning. A table furnishedforth is likewise in readiness here, for notwithstanding the differenceof hours, Mr. Smith and his wife have arranged to take their mealssimultaneously. It is delightful thus to take breakfast _t�te-a-t�te_with one who is 3000 miles or so away. Just now, Mrs. Smith's chamberhas no occupant.

"She is late! Woman's punctuality! Progress everywhere except there!"muttered Mr. Smith as he turned the tap for the first dish. For like allwealthy folk in our day, Mr. Smith has done away with the domestickitchen and is a subscriber to the Grand Alimentation Company, whichsends through a great network of tubes to subscribers' residences allsorts of dishes, as a varied assortment is always in readiness. Asubscription costs money, to be sure, but the _cuisine_ is of the best, and the system has this advantage, that it, does away with the pesteringrace of the _cordons-bleus_. Mr. Smith received and ate, all alone, the_hors-d'oeuvre, entr�es, r�ti_ and _legumes_ that constituted therepast. He was just finishing the dessert when Mrs. Smith appeared inthe mirror of the telephote.

"Why, where have you been?" asked Mr. Smith through the telephone.

"What! You are already at the dessert? Then I am late, " she exclaimed, with a winsome _na�vet�_. "Where have I been, you ask? Why, at mydress-maker's. The hats are just lovely this season! I suppose I forgotto note the time, and so am a little late. "

"Yes, a little, " growled Mr. Smith; "so little that I have alreadyquite finished breakfast. Excuse me if I leave you now, but I must begoing. "

"O certainly, my dear; good-by till evening. "

Smith stepped into his air-coach, which was in waiting for him at awindow. "Where do you wish to go, sir?" inquired the coachman.

"Let me see; I have three hours, " Mr. Smith mused. "Jack, take me to myaccumulator works at Niagara. "

For Mr. Smith has obtained a lease of the great falls of Niagara. Forages the energy developed by the falls went unutilized. Smith, applyingJackson's invention, now collects this energy, and lets or sells it. Hisvisit to the works took more time than he had anticipated. It was fouro'clock when he returned home, just in time for the daily audience whichhe grants to callers.

One readily understands how a man situated as Smith is must be besetwith requests of all kinds. Now it is an inventor needing capital; againit is some visionary who comes to advocate a brilliant scheme which mustsurely yield millions of profit. A choice has to be made between theseprojects, rejecting the worthless, examining the questionable ones, accepting the meritorious. To this work Mr. Smith devotes every day twofull hours.

The callers were fewer to-day than usual--only twelve of them. Of these, eight had only impracticable schemes to propose. In fact, one of themwanted to revive painting, an art fallen into desuetude owing to theprogress made in color-photography. Another, a physician, boasted thathe had discovered a cure for nasal catarrh! These impracticables weredismissed in short order. Of the four projects favorably received, thefirst was that of a young man whose broad forehead betokened hisintellectual power.

"Sir, I am a chemist, " he began, "and as such I come to you. "

"Well!"

"Once the elementary bodies, " said the young chemist, "were held to besixty-two in number; a hundred years ago they were reduced to ten; nowonly three remain irresolvable, as you are aware. "

"Yes, yes. "

"Well, sir, these also I will show to be composite. In a few months, afew weeks, I shall have succeeded in solving the problem. Indeed, it maytake only a few days. "

"And then?"

"Then, sir, I shall simply have determined the absolute. All I want ismoney enough to carry my research to a successful issue. "

"Very well, " said Mr. Smith. "And what will be the practical outcome ofyour discovery?"

"The practical outcome? Why, that we shall be able to produce easily allbodies whatever--stone, wood, metal, fibers--"

"And flesh and blood?" queried Mr. Smith, interrupting him. "Do youpretend that you expect to manufacture a human being out and out?"

"Why not?"

Mr. Smith advanced $100, 000 to the young chemist, and engaged hisservices for the Earth Chronicle laboratory.

The second of the four successful applicants, starting from experimentsmade so long ago as the nineteenth century and again and again repeated, had conceived the idea of removing an entire city all at once from oneplace to another. His special project had to do with the city ofGranton, situated, as everybody knows, some fifteen miles inland. Heproposes to transport the city on rails and to change it into awatering-place. The profit, of course, would be enormous. Mr. Smith, captivated by the scheme, bought a half-interest in it.

"As you are aware, sir, " began applicant No. 3, "by the aid of our solarand terrestrial accumulators and transformers, we are able to make allthe seasons the same. I propose to do something better still. Transforminto heat a portion of the surplus energy at our disposal; send thisheat to the poles; then the polar regions, relieved of their snow-cap, will become a vast territory available for man's use. What think you ofthe scheme?"

"Leave your plans with me, and come back in a week. I will have themexamined in the meantime. "

Finally, the fourth announced the early solution of a weighty scientificproblem. Every one will remember the bold experiment made a hundredyears ago by Dr. Nathaniel Faithburn. The doctor, being a firm believerin human hibernation--in other words, in the possibility of oursuspending our vital functions and of calling them into action againafter a time--resolved to subject the theory to a practical test. Tothis end, having first made his last will and pointed out the propermethod of awakening him; having also directed that his sleep was tocontinue a hundred years to a day from the date of his apparent death, he unhesitatingly put the theory to the proof in his own person.

Reduced to the condition of a mummy, Dr. Faithburn was coffined and laidin a tomb. Time went on. September 25th, 2889, being the day set for hisresurrection, it was proposed to Mr. Smith that he should permit thesecond part of the experiment to be performed at his residence thisevening.

"Agreed. Be here at ten o'clock, " answered Mr. Smith; and with that theday's audience was closed.

Left to himself, feeling tired, he lay down on an extension chair. Then, touching a knob, he established communication with the Central ConcertHall, whence our greatest _maestros_ send out to subscribers theirdelightful successions of accords determined by recondite algebraicformulas. Night was approaching. Entranced by the harmony, forgetful ofthe hour, Smith did not notice that it was growing dark. It was quitedark when he was aroused by the sound of a door opening. "Who is there?"he asked, touching a commutator.

Suddenly, in consequence of the vibrations produced, the air becameluminous.

"Ah! you, Doctor?"

"Yes, " was the reply. "How are you?"

"I am feeling well. "

"Good! Let me see your tongue. All right! Your pulse. Regular! And yourappetite?"

"Only passably good. "

"Yes, the stomach. There's the rub. You are over-worked. If your stomachis out of repair, it must be mended. That requires study. We must thinkabout it. "

"In the meantime, " said Mr. Smith, "you will dine with me. "

As in the morning, the table rose out of the floor. Again, as in themorning, the _potage, r�ti, rago�ts_, and _legumes_ were suppliedthrough the food-pipes. Toward the close of the meal, phonotelephoticcommunication was made with Paris. Smith saw his wife, seated alone atthe dinner-table, looking anything but pleased at her loneliness.

"Pardon me, my dear, for having left you alone, " he said through thetelephone. "I was with Dr. Wilkins. "

"Ah, the good doctor!" remarked Mrs. Smith, her countenance lighting up.

"Yes. But, pray, when are you coming home?"

"This evening. "

"Very well. Do you come by tube or by air-train?"

"Oh, by tube. "

"Yes; and at what hour will you arrive?"

"About eleven, I suppose. "

"Eleven by Centropolis time, you mean?"

"Yes. "

"Good-by, then, for a little while, " said Mr. Smith as he severedcommunication with Paris.

Dinner over, Dr. Wilkins wished to depart. "I shall expect you at ten, "said Mr Smith. "To-day, it seems, is the day for the return to life ofthe famous Dr. Faithburn. You did not think of it, I suppose. Theawakening is to take place here in my house. You must come and see. Ishall depend on your being here. "

"I will come back, " answered Dr. Wilkins.

Left alone, Mr. Smith busied himself with examining his accounts--a taskof vast magnitude, having to do with transactions which involve a dailyexpenditure of upward of $800, 000. Fortunately, indeed, the stupendousprogress of mechanic art in modern times makes it comparatively easy. Thanks to the Piano Electro-Reckoner, the most complex calculations canbe made in a few seconds. In two hours Mr. Smith completed his task. Just in time. Scarcely had he turned over the last page when Dr. Wilkinsarrived. After him came the body of Dr. Faithburn, escorted by anumerous company of men of science. They commenced work at once. Thecasket being laid down in the middle of the room, the telephote was gotin readiness. The outer world, already notified, was anxiouslyexpectant, for the whole world could be eye-witnesses of theperformance, a reporter meanwhile, like the chorus in the ancient drama, explaining it all _viva voce_ through the telephone.

"They are opening the casket, " he explained. "Now they are takingFaithburn out of it--a veritable mummy, yellow, hard, and dry. Strikethe body and it resounds like a block of wood. They are now applyingheat; now electricity. No result. These experiments are suspended for amoment while Dr. Wilkins makes an examination of the body. Dr. Wilkins, rising, declares the man to be dead. 'Dead!' exclaims every one present. 'Yes, ' answers Dr. Wilkins, 'dead!' 'And how long has he been dead?' Dr. Wilkins makes another examination. 'A hundred years, ' he replies. "

The case stood just as the reporter said. Faithburn was dead, quitecertainly dead! "Here is a method that needs improvement, " remarked Mr. Smith to Dr. Wilkins, as the scientific committee on hibernation borethe casket out. "So much for that experiment. But if poor Faithburn isdead, at least he is sleeping, " he continued. "I wish I could get somesleep. I am tired out, Doctor, quite tired out! Do you not think that abath would refresh me?"

"Certainly. But you must wrap yourself up well before you go out intothe hall-way. You must not expose yourself to cold. "

"Hall-way? Why, Doctor, as you well know, everything is done bymachinery here. It is not for me to go to the bath; the bath will cometo me. Just look!" and he pressed a button. After a few seconds a faintrumbling was heard, which grew louder and louder. Suddenly the dooropened, and the tub appeared.

Such, for this year of grace 2889, is the history of one day in the lifeof the editor of the Earth Chronicle. And the history of that one dayis the history of 365 days every year, except leap-years, and then of366 days--for as yet no means has been found of increasing the length ofthe terrestrial year.

JULES VERNE.