Philip Van Doren Stern (ed) (25 page)

"So
far
as
I
could
see,
all
the
world
displayed
the
same
exuberant richness
as
the
Thames
valley.
From
every
hill
I
climbed
I
saw
the same
abundance
of
splendid
buildings,
endlessly
varied
in
materia, and
style,
the
same
clustering
thickets
of
evergreens,
the
same
blossom-laden
trees
and
tree-fems.
Here
and
there
water
shone
like
silver,
and beyond,
the
land
rose
into
blue
undulating
hills,
and
so
faded
into the
serenity
of
the
sky.
A
peculiar
feature,
which
presently
attracted my
attention,
was
the
presence
of
certain
circular
wells,
several,
as
it seemed
to
me,
of
a
very
great
depth.
One
lay
by
the
path
up
the
hill, which
I
had
followed
during
my
first
walk.
Like
the
others,
it
was rimmed
with
bronze,
curiously
wrought,
and
protected
by
a
little cupola
from
the
rain.
Sitting
by
the
side
of
these
wells,
and
peering down
into
the
shafted
darkness,
I
could
see
no
gleam
of
water,
noi could
I
start
any
reflection
with
a
lighted
match.
But
in
all
of
them I
heard
a
certain
sound:
a
thud—thud—thud,
like
the
beating
of
some big
engine;
and
I
discovered,
from
the
flaring
of
my
matches,
that a
steady
current
of
air
set
down
the
shafts.
Further,
I
threw
a
scrap of
paper
into
the
throat
of
one,
and,
instead
of
fluttering
slowly
down, it
was
at
once
sucked
swiftly
out
of
sight.

"After
a
time,
too,
I
came
to
connect
these
wells
with
tall
towers standing
here
and
there
upon
the
slopes;
for
above
them
there
war often
just
such
a
flicker
in
the
air
as
one
sees
on
a
hot
day
above
k sun-scorched
beach.
Putting
things
together,
I
reached
a
strong
suggestion
of
an
extensive
system
of
subterranean
ventilation,
whose
true import
it
was
difficult
to
imagine.
I
was
at
first
inclined
to
associate
it with
the
sanitary
apparatus
of
these
people.
It
was
an
obvious
conclusion,
but
it
was
absolutely
wrong.

"And
here
I
must
admit
that
I
learned
very
little
of
drains
and
bells and
modes
of
conveyance,
and
the
like
conveniences,
during
my
time in
this
real
future.
In
some
of
these
visions
of
Utopias
and
coming times
which
I
have
read,
there
is
a
vast
amount
of
detail
about
building,
and
social
arrangements,
and
so
forth.
But
while
such
details
are easy
enough
to
obtain
when
the
whole
world
is
contained
in
one's imagination,
they
are
altogether
inaccessible
to
a
real
traveller
amid such
realities
as
I
found
here.
Conceive
the
tale
of
London
which
a negro,
fresh
from
Central
Africa,
would
take
back
to
his
tribe!
What would
he
know
of
railway
companies,
of
social
movements,
of
telephone
and
telegraph
wires,
of
the
Parcels
Delivery
Company,
and postal
orders
and
the
like?
Yet
we,
at
least,
should
be
willing
enough to
explain
these
things
to
him!
And
even
of
what
he
knew,
how
much could
he
make
his
untravelled
friend
either
apprehend
or
believe? Then,
think
how
narrow
the
gap
between
a
negro
and
a
white
man of
our
own
times,
and
how
wide
the
interval
between
myself
and
these of
the
Golden
Age!
I
was
sensible
of
much
which
was
unseen,
and which
contributed
to
my
comfort;
but
save
for
a
general
impression of
automatic
organisation,
I
fear
I
can
convey
very
little
of
the difference
to
your
mind.