ere it not," added Ayrault, "that our earth is the vestibule to
space, and for the opportunities it opens, I should rather never have
lived, for life in itself is unsatisfying."

"You fellows are too indefinite and abstract for me," said Bearwarden.
"I like something tangible and concrete. The utilitarianism of the
twentieth century, by which I live, paradoxical though it may seem,
would be out of place in space, unless we can colonize the other
planets, and improve their arrangements and axes."

Mixed with Ayrault's philosophical and metaphysical thoughts were the
memories of his sweetheart at Vassar, and he longed, more than his
companions, for the spirit's return, that he might ask him if perchance
he could tell him aught of her, and whether her thoughts were then of
him.

Finally, worn out by the fatigue and excitement of the day, they set
the protection-wires, more from force of habit than because they feared
molestation and, rolling themselves in their blankets--for the night
was cold--were soon fast asleep; Ayrault's last thought having been of
his fiancee, Cortlandt's of the question he wished to ask the spirit,
and Bearwarden's of the progress of his Company in the work of
straightening the terrestrial axis. Thus they slept seven hundred and
ninety million miles beyond their earth's orbit, and more than eight
hundred million from the place where the earth was then. While they
lay unconscious, the clouds above them froze, and before morning there
was a fall of snow that covered the ground and them as they lay upon
it. Soon three white mounds were all that marked their presence, and
the cranes and eagles, rising from their roosts in response to the
coming day, looked unconcernedly at all that was human that they had
ever seen. Finally, wakened by the resounding cries of these birds,
Bearwarden and Cortlandt arose, and meeting Ayrault, who had already
risen, mistook the snowy form before them for the spirit, and thinking
the dead bishop had revisited them, they were preparing to welcome him,
and to propound the questions they had formulated, when Ayrault's
familiar voice showed them their mistake.

"Seeing your white figures," said he, "rise apparently in response to
those loud calls, reminded me of what the spirit told us of the last
day, and of the awakening and resurrection of the dead."

The scene was indeed weird. The east, already streaked with the rays
of the rising far-away sun, and the pale moo