onished that young girls, with cheeks like the downy
bloom of a ripe peach, should chatter and laugh merrily over every
conversational topic but that of the lords of society. The older and the
wiser among women might acquire a depreciating idea of their worth, but
innocent and inexperienced girlhood was apt to surround that name with a
halo of romance and fancied nobility that the reality did not always
possess. What, then, was my amazement to find _them_ indifferent and
wholly neglectful of that (to me) very important class of beings.

Conjecture at last exhausted itself, and curiosity became indifferent.
Mizora, as a nation, or an individual representative, was incapable of
dishonor. Whatever their secret I should make no farther effort to
discover it. Their hospitality had been generous and unreserved. Their
influence upon my character--morally--had been an incalculable benefit.
I had enjoyed being among them. The rhythm of happiness that swept like
a strain of sweet music through all their daily life, touched a chord in
my own nature that responded.

And when I contrasted the prosperity of Mizora--a prosperity that
reached every citizen in its vast territory--with the varied phases of
life that are found in my own land, it urged me to inquire if there
could be hope for such happiness within its borders.

To the Preceptress, whose sympathies I knew were broad as the lap of
nature, I at last went with my desire and perplexities. A sketch of my
country's condition was the inevitable prelude. I gave it without once
alluding to the presence of Man. She listened quietly and attentively.
Her own land lay like a charming picture before her. I spoke of its
peaceful happiness, its perfected refinement, its universal wealth, and
paramount to all its other blessings, its complete ignorance of social
ills. With them, love did not confine itself to families, but encircled
the Nation in one embrace. How dismal, in contrast, was the land that
had given me birth.

"But one eminent distinction exists among us as a people," I added in
conclusion. "We are not all of one race."

I paused and looked at the Preceptress. She appeared lost in reverie.
Her expression was one of solicitude and approached nearer to actual
pain than anything I had ever noticed upon it before. She looked up and
caught my eye regarding her. Then she quietly asked:

"_Are there men in your country?_"

PART SECOND.

CHAPTER I.

I answered i