“Which way is north?” asked Gale, as we looked down at the huge compass-like carving.

“All ways,” I said. “We are at the end of South, here. The center of that diagram is the spot we set out to reach. It is the South Pole.”

Gale reflected on this a moment, and then with something of the old spirit said:

“I’d like to know how anybody is ever going to lay out an addition here! Latitudes and longitudes, and directions, and hemispheres, all mixed up, and no difference in east and west fronts, or afternoon sun.” He paused a moment, and seemed reflecting; then he grew even more like the Gale of earlier days. “Say,” he added suddenly, “but wouldn’t this temple make a great hotel, though! Center of everything, and sun in every window once in twenty-four hours. Do you know, if it wasn’t for Ferratoni, I’d try to make some sort of a—a matrimonial alliance with the Princess, and get her interested in developing this country and stirring things up. I’d pitch that jim-crow electric 265apparatus, that don’t work, into this lake, and I’d put a light on top of this pyramid that would show from here to the snow-line. Then I’d run an elevator up here, and have trolley cars connecting all over, and steam launches going up and down these rivers.” He paused for breath, and then his face saddened. “But what’s the use, Nick?” he said mournfully. “How is anybody going to do business here? Nobody wants any homes and firesides, or trolleys, or steamboats, and if they did, they haven’t got any money to pay for anything with. Think of it! Not a dollar in the whole country! Not a nickel! Not a red penny!”

It was as the flare of the expiring candle. He ceased. The spell of the country once more lay upon him. The ways of progress such as he had known seemed as far off and forgotten as the cold northern pole beneath us.

Mr. Sturritt looked sad, too, and shook his head silently. There seemed no need of his food preparations in a land where people never journeyed afar, and had ample time to consume the ample stores so lavishly provided by nature, and in such uncondensed forms. Like the rest of us, he would forget, and let the world go by.

We loitered back to the edge of the terrace and looked down. Far below, the Princess and her court were just arriving. We watched them alight from their barges and ascend the stairway that led to the first terrace. They were a fair throng, and the sight from above was beautiful in the extreme. In front there came a troop of singing children with garlands of flowers. Just behind these walked the Princess in her robe of state, and by her side, our companion, Ferratoni, her guest of honor. After them followed the people of the court, young men and maids—all laden with great floral bonds, festooned from one couple to the next in a mighty double chain. There was no solemnity. All were chanting gaily. As they reached the top of each stairway, they paused to face the sun and unite in a jubilant chorus. Truly, I thought, theirs is a religion of joy and goodwill.

“I’m sorry, no............