er-head, for which at first I
mistook it, towered the far-distant, snowy summit of Mount Hall.

Even had the configuration of land and sea been less familiar, I should
none the less have known that I stood on the planet whose ruddy hue is
at once the admiration and puzzle of astronomers. Its explanation I now
recognized in the tint of the atmosphere, a coloring comparable to the
haze of Indian summer, except that its hue was a faint rose instead
of purple. Like the Indian summer haze, it was impalpable, and without
impeding the view bathed all objects near and far in a glamour not to be
described. As the gaze turned upward, however, the deep blue of space
so far overcame the roseate tint that one might fancy he were still on
Earth.

As I looked about me I saw many men, women, and children. They were in
no respect dissimilar, so far as I could see, to the men, women, and
children of the Earth, save for something almost childlike in the
untroubled serenity of their faces, unfurrowed as they were by any trace
of care, of fear, or of anxiety. This extraordinary youthful-ness
of aspect made it difficult, indeed, save by careful scrutiny, to
distinguish the young from the middle-aged, maturity from advanced
years. Time seemed to have no tooth on Mars.

I was gazing about me, admiring this crimson-lighted world, and these
people who appeared to hold happiness by a tenure so much firmer than
men's, when I heard the words, "You are welcome," and, turning, saw that
I had been accosted by a man with the stature and bearing of middle
age, though his countenance, like the other faces which I had noted,
wonderfully combined the strength of a man's with the serenity of a
child's. I thanked him, and said,--

"You do not seem surprised to see me, though I certainly am to find
myself here."

"Assuredly not," he answered. "I knew, of course, that I was to meet
you to-day. And not only that, but I may say I am already in a sense
acquainted with you, through a mutual friend, Professor Edgerly. He was
here last month, and I met him at that time. We talked of you and your
interest in our planet. I told him I expected you."

"Edgerly!" I exclaimed. "It is strange that he has said nothing of this
to me. I meet him every day."

But I was reminded that it was in a dream that Edgerly, like myself,
had visited Mars, and on awaking had recalled nothing of his experience,
just as I should recall nothing of mine. When will man learn to
interr