perish in
thirty-three years; to descend to detail, thirty millions every year,
three thousand four hundred every hour, sixty every minute, or ONE
EVERY SECOND."

"Aye," remarked Willis, "we are here to-day and gone to-morrow."

"Suppose, then, that the population of the earth were twice as great,
cultivation would be extended, territories that are now lying waste
would be teeming with life and covered with fertile fields, but the
same beautiful equilibrium would be maintained."

"And the inhabitants of the planets," said Fritz, "what are they
about?"

"What planets do you mean?" inquired Willis.

"Well, all in general; the moon, for example, in particular."

"The moon," replied Jack, "has, in the first place, no atmosphere.
This we know, because the rays of the stars passing behind her are
not, in the slightest degree, refracted; and this proves that neither
men, nor animals, nor vegetables of any kind, are to be found in that
planet, for they could not exist without air."

"That should settle the question," remarked Willis.

"Yes," remarked Fritz; "but some theorists, nevertheless, insist that
there may be living creatures in the moon, for all that--of course,
differently constituted from the inhabitants of our earth, and
susceptible of existing without air. There is, however, no evidence of
any kind to support such a theory; it is a mere fancy, the dream of an
imaginative brain. Upon the same grounds, it may be argued, that the
interior of the earth is inhabited, and that elves and gnomes are
possible beings. Besides, the telescope has been brought to so high a
degree of perfection, that objects the size of a house can now be
detected in the moon."

"It seems, I am afraid," remarked Jack, who, like his brother, was
getting annoyed by the phantasmagoria on shore, "that we were about
as well supplied with wild beasts here as they are with men in the
planets."

"In speaking of the moon, however," continued Fritz, "I do not imply
all the planets; for, certain as we are that the moon has no
atmosphere, so we are equally certain that some of the planets possess
that attribute. Still there are other circumstances that render the
notion of their being inhabited by beings like ourselves exceedingly
improbable. Mercury, for example, is so embarrassed by the solar rays,
that lead must always be in a state of fusion, and water, if not
reduced to a state of vapor, will be hot enough to boil the fish that
are in it.