The reformers， one and all， demanded a few thousandyears， to test their theories， after which the universemight go to wreck. A mechanician， who was busied withan improvement of the steam-engine， asked merely timeto perfect his model. A miser insisted that the world’sdestruction would be a personal wrong to himself， unlesshe should first be permitted to add a specified sum to hisenormous heap of gold. A little boy made dolorous inquirywhether the last day would come before Christmas， andthus deprive him of his anticipated dainties. In short，nobody seemed satisfied that this mortal scene of thingsshould have its close just now. Yet， it must be confessed，the motives of the crowd for desiring its continuance weremostly so absurd， that， unless Infinite Wisdom had beenaware of much better reasons， the solid Earth must havemelted away at once.
For my own part， not to speak of a few private andpersonal ends， I really desired our old Mother’s prolongedexistence， for her own dear sake.
“The poor old Earth！” I repeated. “What I shouldchiefly regret in her destruction would be that veryearthliness， which no other sphere or state of existencecan renew or compensate. The fragrance of flowers， andof new-mown hay； the genial warmth of sunshine， and thebeauty of a sunset among clouds； the comfort and cheerfulglow of the fireside； the deliciousness of fruits， and of allgood cheer； the magnificence of mountains， and seas， andcataracts， and the softer charm of rural scenery； even thefast-falling snow， and the gray atmosphere through whichit descends—all these， and innumerable other enjoyablethings of earth， must perish with her. Then the countryfrolics； the homely humor； the broad， open-mouthed roarof laughter， in which body and soul conjoin so heartily！
I fear that no other world can show us anything just likethis. As for purely moral enjoyments， the good will findthem in every state of being. But where the material andthe moral exist together， what is to happen then？ And thenour mute four-footed friends， and the winged songsters ofour woods！ Might it not be lawful to regret them， even inthe hallowed groves of Paradise？”
“You speak like the very spirit of earth， imbued with ascent of freshly-turned soil！” exclaimed my friend.
“It is not that I so much object to giving up theseenjoyments， on my own account，” continued I； “but I hateto think that they will have been eternally annihilatedfrom the list of joys.”
“Nor need they be，” he replied. “I see no real force inwhat you say. Standing in this Hall of Fantasy， we perceivewhat even the earth-clogged intellect of man can do，in creating circumstances， which， though we call themshadowy and visionary， are scarcely more so than thosethat surround us in actual life. Doubt not， then， that man’sdisembodied spirit may recreate Time and the World foritself， with all their peculiar enjoyments， should there stillbe human yearnings amid life eternal and infinite. But Idoubt whether we shall be inclined to play such a poorscene over again.”
“Oh， you are ungrateful to our Mother Earth！” rejoinedI. “Come what may， I never will forget her！ Neither willit satisfy me to have her exist merely in idea. I want hergreat， round， solid self to endure interminably， and still tobe peopled with the kindly race of man， whom I upholdto be much better than he thinks himself. Nevertheless，I confide the whole matter to Providence， and shallendeavor so to live， that the world may come to an end atany moment， without leaving me at a loss to find footholdsomewhere else.”
“It is an excellent resolve，” said my companion， lookingat his watch. “But come； it is the dinner hour. Will youpartake of my vegetable diet？”
A thing so matter-of-fact as an invitation to dinner，even when the fare was to be nothing more substantialthan vegetables and fruit， compelled us forthwith toremove from the Hall of Fantasy. As we passed out ofthe portal， we met the spirits of several persons， whohad been sent thither in magnetic sleep. I looked backamong the sculptured pillars， and at the transformationsof the gleaming fountain， and almost desired that thewhole of life might be spent in that visionary scene， wherethe actual world， with its hard angles， should never rubagainst me， and only be viewed through the medium ofpictured windows. But， for those who waste all their daysin the Hall of Fantasy， good Father Miller’s prophecy isalready accomplished， and the solid earth has come to anuntimely end. Let us be content， therefore， with merely anoccasional visit， for the sake of spiritualizing the grossnessof this actual life， and prefiguring to ourselves a state， inwhich the Idea shall be all in all.