Unless such excursions as ours become more frequent in the future, it will
probably always remain a mystery how this one came to a close. I can only
relate our experience during the time that we retained our consciousness,
and leave the imagination to picture the rest. As we entered the
atmosphere of the planet, the rush of air increased till it seemed as if a
hundred Niagaras were sounding in our ears. I remember having a dim
feeling of satisfaction in the belief that such a violent contact with the
atmosphere must impede the moon's progress, and offer us some chance of
landing in safety. Then I was bereft of all sense, and when I regained
consciousness I was lying in the bottom of our car in perfect quiet and
apparently unharmed.

I called aloud for the doctor, but no voice replied. Rising, I looked
about me and found I was afloat on a ruddy sea, alone, as far as my senses
could inform me, alone in a new world. Such a sensation of homesickness
came over me, such a longing for human fellowship, that our former
lonesome condition on the moon seemed like a paradise compared to my
present wretchedness.

So this was Mars, which we had studied with our telescopes and about whose
condition and history we had so often speculated. And now, as I leaned my
elbows on the edge of the car and gazed off over the deep, I wondered,
with more interest than I had ever before possessed, if the world I had
discovered were inhabited. Perhaps because it was such a vital question
with me, my naturally hopeful disposition began to find reasons for a
cheerful view. There were certainly favorable evidences all about me. I
was breathing an atmosphere evidently made for lungs like mine. The air
was soft and pleasant, and though I was drenched with water by my fall I
was not uncomfortable. I tasted the water and, oh! joyful reminder of