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e a more natural familiarity. "Happy? No more than for my feet, my ears, or my life," she answered in a more composed manner. "You say that you are from another world. Where can that be?" was her welcome query. Then I pointed my finger in the direction of our world and remarked: "If you could travel in that direction on swift wings day and night for a few millions of years, you would still be far, far away from the world where I live." "And is that world inhabited by sensible creatures?" "It is." "But how could you have traversed so great a distance?" "Never can I explain that mystery to you. Be content that I am here." "Are you in the image of the other human creatures in that far away world?" "In general they are all fashioned as I am." "No one having wings?" she added with surprise. "Not one." "How can that be true?" "Because we were made without them." "And have you no way of moving through the air at pleasure?" "Not without artificial machinery." "Artificial machinery?" she repeated. "What can you mean by that?" Of course they have no word for balloon or flying machine, and I found it difficult to describe the shape and explain the philosophy of these things. I did the best I could in her language, and after I had finished my description she for the first time smiled and said: "That sort of a construction would be a fine thing for the indolents of our world who, through misuse or lack of use of their wings, have no more ability to fly." This was interesting to me and I closely inquired as to the cause of this loss of the wing power. Plume grew more and more familiar in her address and in a long conversation told me of the many conditions that make people unfit to fly. I deduce from our conversation a few of these causes. 1. Simple neglect. 2. Gluttonous life. 3. Sensuality of a low and heavy life. 4. Pride. Some yield to a superstitious notion that it is honorable to make but little display of themselves, and allow their wings to be bound or partly clipped. 5. Certain kinds of sickness render the wing-chords inoperative. I learned that altogether nearly one-half of the population are unable to fly. How my mind flew back to our own life as I was learning of these sad conditions. There is a sort of a life on wings in our world, although the wings are invisible. But on account of the low, mean lives so many are living, they never rise above the miasmic contagio
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