It is in the pleasant little village of Dozen where Mr. Uwins and family live. Mr. Uwins is a philosopher by nature, and an author, over an assumed name, by profession. The family at present consists of Mr. and Mrs. Uwins; Miss Viola, a daughter of eighteen; Roland, a son of fourteen; Celestine, a daughter of six; and Rev. Dudley, a brother of Mrs. Uwins, who is spending the summer with them.

Mr. Uwins is a handsome, well-proportioned man of middle age. He is about six feet tall, weighing about 180 pounds. His clothes are not expensive, but always scrupulously clean and tidy. His appearance is decidedly prepossessing and lasting toward man, woman and child. He nearly always wears a pleasing countenance, is modest, kind, just and highly sociable. He is an untimid, original thinker, searching for truth in all direction. His clear, sincere, lucid and forcible style of expression makes him a charming conversationalist, admired by all who know him.

Mrs. Uwins is a little above the medium size, erect and well-proportioned. She is a few years younger than her husband, and is almost as handsome and tasty now as she was at sixteen. She walks with a quick, elastic step; is orderly, skilled and ready in her domestic and other walks of life. Always kind, and never loses control of her temper. Revenge and jealousy have no place in her heart. She is cheerful, even under adversity. She teaches her children to be independent, kind, just and industrious, and never governs by force. The faculty of teaching her children to do their respective parts, their share of the work without a command, is highly developed in her. She is an acute thinker, a good writer, a pleasing conversationalist, an accomplished player, and a sweet singer. The social and industrial problem has been boldly and fearlessly investigated by her, particularly in the direction of her own sex. Take her in all, she is a model woman of our present age.

Rev. Dudley is an orthodox minister, spending the present summer, on account of his health, with his sister, Mrs. Uwins. Rev. Dudley is a man of ordinary intellectual ability, and he is not enjoying the most robust health. The brother and sister are very unlike in thought and belief. The brother was educated in a theological seminary; the sister, by an extensive course of miscellaneous reading and by an indefatigable study of Nature by which the Architect of the universe is yet building worlds, suns and solar systems.

Mr. and Mrs. Uwins’ children all enjoy excellent health; are handsome, kind, industrious, affectionate, well educated, and highly cultivated. Viola is a charming young woman with unusual mental powers and personal charms. She possesses all her mother’s good characteristics. The laws of health and freedom seem to be her guide. She teaches music with great success. Her pupils all love her. Sorrow and melancholy disappear before her presence. She is always ready and willing to do her share of the domestic labor. She is the belle of the village and has the choice of all its suitors.

Roland is an obliging youth, full of life and a keen observer of nature. Celestine is overflowing with activity. It seems as if nature is endeavoring to see how much she can do with a child, living in a somewhat favorable social atmosphere. They all seem to have inherited the noble traits of their parents physically and mentally. The parental natures seem to be deeply grafted in their very constitutions; we find no social discord, no commander and no obeyer. All seem to know their part and act from motives of their own conviction of right and wrong.

The beautiful little village of Dozen, in which Mr. Uwins resides, is located in the most healthful portion of the fertile Mississippi valley. The climate is mild and delightful during nearly the whole year. In this village Mr. Uwins has erected his neat, comfortable, two-story residence, in which he pursues his philosophizing and literary work. In this residence Mr. Uwins and family seem to enjoy more happiness and harmony than any other family I have ever before seen. All rule and none obey. All is cleanliness, order, affection and happiness. The courtesies, smiles and continuous sunshine of the whole family make this home more nearly a heaven than any other place I have ever experienced on earth. The cat and the dog, the fowl and the rabbit, the bird and the babe, the stranger and the beau are treated with equal kindness and courtesy. Such is the bliss of its inmates, of both man and beast.

While I was collecting material for a biographical publication, it was my good fortune to make the acquaintance of Mr. Uwins and his happy family, with whom I received the permission to make my home while I was collecting, in that vicinity, the biographical material for which I was in search.

The Uwins family were not in the habit of keeping strangers, but the cordial treatment, the modest, pleasing, scholarly answers which Mr. Uwins gave to my biographical questions, and the easy conduct and familiarity of Mrs. Uwins and all their children, made me persist in becoming a member of the family during my stay at Dozen. I can say without exaggeration that the lesson I have learned in Mr. Uwins’ home can not be learned at the present day in any college or institution of learning in the world. The lesson how to make ourselves and others happy underlies all other knowledge and learning; and all the members of the Uwins family taught—by their words and acts—this great lesson more conspicuously and more uninterruptedly than I had ever heard or seen it taught before.

When Mr. Uwins’ family and myself were enjoying the blessings of a well-supplied, cheerful home, about five o’clock one June evening, immediately before the beginning of a heavy rain, which continued uninterruptedly until the next morning, a stranger of extraordinary physique knocked at the open door. Mr. Uwins rose and asked him in. The stranger introduced himself as Midith. “I am engaged in canvassing Mr. Herbert Spencer’s ‘Synthetic Philosophy,’” he said as he sat down on the chair offered him by Mr. Uwins.

“We have Mr. Spencer’s works in our library, and have studied them diligently for years,” said Mr. Uwins, “but we are, nevertheless, pleased to meet you, and extend our hospitality toward one who endeavors to disseminate useful knowledge.”

Just at the time when Mr. Midith entered the parlor, I was taking some notes at the further end of the apartment. Mr. Uwins introduced Mr. Midith to all the members of his family, and then, turning to me, introduced me as Thomas Fulton.

“Mr. Fulton,” continued Mr. Uwins, “is a stenographer, and is collecting material for a new kind of biographical publication. If you have a strange history to relate,” said Mr. Uwins, with a smile, “then Mr. Fulton is your man.”

“I am sure Mr. Fulton has chosen a very instructive occupation,” rejoined Mr. Midith.

“It is already beginning to rain, and you might just as well make up your mind to remain with us for the night,” said Mr. Uwins to Mr. Midith.

“I shall, indeed, be ever so much pleased to accept your kind invitation, if I shall not be too much trouble to you and the ladies,” said Mr. Midith, with an apparent air of satisfaction.

“You are entirely welcome, Mr. Midith,” said Mrs. Uwins, pleasantly; “try to make yourself at home. We have little formality to offer. We believe more in freedom and the spontaneous activity of nature than we do in constrained fashion.”

Mr. Midith apparently enjoys the highest state of health. He is about six feet tall, weighing about 185 pounds, erect, a model of symmetry, a handsome face and a graceful form, a full beard and mustache, beautiful bright eyes, a well-proportioned nose, a massive forehead, a gentle, easy, prepossessing manner. His complexion is dark, lighted up with an obliging, complacent countenance, always wearing a smile which seems to have been stamped deeply into his very constitution by the kindness of himself and his ancestors. His presence seems to be always highly agreeable. He knows of no frown. Time has cut no furrows of care and anxiety in his brow. His general appearance and his soft, pleasing, affable conversational powers seem to transform sorrow into joy. Arrogance, revenge and jealousy have apparently been banished from his heart by the operation of his powerful intellect. His whole structure and bearing seem to have been modeled by truth and harmony. Discord, arrogance and rudeness seem to have long been crowded out by higher and nobler traits.

The style of his costume was such that comfort is considered the first requisite, and adornment next. His clothes are scrupulously neat, clean and tidy. Health to him seems to be far more precious than fashion and conventionality. Experience seems to have taught him that, where a law of health and a law of fashion conflict, the law of fashion should be disregarded. He apparently has acted all through life, and perhaps his ancestors before him, that physical structure and mental attainments are far more precious than adornments of silks, gold and diamonds.

My profession has naturally thrown me in contact with a large number of individuals of the human race in various parts of the civilized world, but I must confess that I have never before met an individual in whom there appears to be so many good and noble characteristics united in one person than there appear to be in Mr. Midith. I think he is as nearly a model of human perfection as the world will probably ever be capable of producing.

I noticed that the whole family were completely captivated by Mr. Midith’s charming, prepossessing appearance. Viola, in particular, seemed to be spellbound for the time being. Her rosy cheeks were redder than usual; but she soon recovered her usual affableness toward Mr. Midith, as well as toward all the rest of the company. Celestine was already leaning against his knee, with his hand resting on her shoulder; while Roland was continually edging nearer to him.

The rain had been pouring down for nearly an hour since Mr. Midith entered the house and became a member of this happy family. It is six o’clock, and Mrs. Uwins announces tea. The table, as always, is neatly set and tastily arranged. The cooking is excellent. While we were at the table, as well as after the meal, the conversation grew more and more interesting. The confidence of one another seemed to be strengthened by every additional word. The scientific, social, industrial and domestic problems were ably handled. Mr. Midith displayed, in an unassuming manner, such a vast amount of information that he almost held all of us spellbound. His perspicuous, sincere utterances brought a deep conviction to his hearers. It seemed, at times, that he was endowed with superhuman power of expression; but his attention to others was just as perfect and pleasing as his conversational abilities.

When, after tea, we were all seated in the cosy parlor, Mr. Midith remarked that his present surroundings appeared more homelike to him than any other home he had ever before enjoyed on this earth.

“On this earth,” repeated Viola. “Have you ever been on any other earth than this one, Mr. Midith?”

“You were, before supper, talking about strange histories,” said Mr. Midith. “I am quite sure that my history would seem very strange to you. Yes, in fact, it would no doubt at first seem incredible to you. But the strangeness and incredibility do not alter the facts in the case. My history is a romance in which every event is a reality,” said Mr. Midith.

“I am sure, Mr. Midith,” said Mrs. Uwins, “that we would be highly interested in your history, and nothing would please us better just now than to listen to you.”

“Allow me to tell you, ladies and gentlemen,” said Mr. Midith unassumingly, “that I have never before given my history to any one. But as I have always intended to make it known to the mundane (belonging to the world, earthly) inhabitants when a favorable opportunity would present itself, after having thoroughly acquainted myself with your social and industrial institutions, and as this is by far the most favorable one I have so far had, I shall be pleased to comply with your request.”

We unanimously requested Mr. Midith to proceed with his narrative, which he did as follows:

“It will doubtless seem incredible, perhaps almost miraculous, to you at this stage of mundane development, when I tell you that I was not born and reared on this planet. But let not this deter you. Events that seem incredible, incomprehensible and impossible in one age, often become credible, comprehensible and possible in a succeeding age. To a savage it seems impossible to project a 2,000-pound cannon ball as far as you actually do project it. To the contemporaries of Columbus, our modern steamer, which crosses the Atlantic in about five days, seemed no doubt incredible. Telegraphy seemed impossible to Washington and his contemporaries; so did a sixty-mile-an-hour train. But we all find them perfectly natural and practicable in this age. We have divested them of all mystery, and have put them under the dominion of an inexorable law, whose operation our ancestors did not understand. It would be highly presumptuous on our part to assume that we know all what can be known: that all what seems to be impossible to us now must forever remain impossible to our posterity.

“You, no doubt, are all familiar with Mr. Spencer’s maxim, ‘Not directly, but by successive approximations do mankind arrive at correct conclusions.’

“I fear that I shall be taxing your credulity severely by giving you my truthful history, but, with the foregoing facts in our minds, it may be worth while to listen to the claims of any person who does not enter wholly into the field of inconceivability. History proves that the persons who have been willing to listen fairly to the claims of others, even if they appeared impossible at the time, keeping what they believed to be good and rejecting what they believe to be wrong, have by far been the noblest and the most useful to mankind; to them is due the progress of the world.”

“All that you have said is true,” said Mr. Uwins, “and I am sure we can not fail to give you the most interesting hearing.”

“I was born on the planet Mars, about fifty years ago,” continued Mr. Midith.

“Born on the planet Mars!” I exclaimed with astonishment. “You have, indeed, a strange history, then.”

“From astronomical studies,” continued Mr. Midith, “you have learned that a Marsian day is about 38 minutes longer than your day here on earth. The Marsian year is 687 of your days instead of 365 1/4 days. The diameter of Mars is about 5,000 miles, while that of the earth is nearly 8,000 miles. The heat and light of Mars is, of course, not so intense as that of the earth, because Mars is about 34 million miles farther from the sun than the earth; and because heat and light decrease in intensity as the square of the distance increases.

“The earth has one moon, and Mars has two. The smallest one is about six miles in diameter. It is the smallest heavenly body with which we are acquainted. The nearest of Mars’ moons is less than 4,000 miles from the surface of Mars. The nearness of this moon to Mars I would like to have you keep in mind, for my presence on earth is indirectly connected with this phenomenon, which I will soon tell you.

“We must bear in mind that one year on Mars is nearly two years on earth. A person living eighty years on Mars lives about double the number of hours that a person who lives eighty years on earth does.

“According to your ‘nebular hypothesis,’ which is true according to our astronomical knowledge Mars was detached from the sun ages before the earth was born; for Mars is farther from the sun—is located outside of the earth’s orbit. Mars is also much smaller and less dense than the earth, in consequence of which it cooled much longer and much more rapidly. Mars, then, is much older astronomically and geologically. The crust of Mars, in proportion to its diameter, is much thicker than the crust of the earth. The water area, in proportion to the land area, is much smaller on Mars than it is on earth, because the water is continually being absorbed by the thickening solid crust. We can readily see, then, that according to these data, other things being equal, Mars must have an older and more advanced vegetable and animal life. The Marsian social and industrial organizations must be much more perfect than yours.

“On account of the difficult dynamical (pertaining to strength or power) principles involved in my interplanetary navigation, I shall for the present defer an explanation of my journey. It will, however, I think, not be out of place here to suggest that the force of gravitation between two bodies is in proportion to their mass and inversely as the square of their distance. The earth and Mars, when nearest together, are about 34,000,000 miles apart. There is a point, then, somewhere between them, where a body would be equally attracted by both, would neither fall to the earth nor to Mars. But, if moved a little toward either one, from the point of equilibrium, it would fall the whole distance toward that body with continuously increasing velocity. If the earth and Mars, when in conjunction, were only a mile apart, a body could easily, even with your present knowledge of dynamics, be projected out of the reach of gravitation of one of these planets into that of the other. The actual interplanetary distance, which I traversed between the earth and Mars, calls in nothing new in kind, but only in degree. So you see that in order to be able to make this interplanetary journey, you need only to improve on what you already have; and time has given the inhabitants of Mars, on this point, the advantage over the inhabitants of the earth.”