noticed yet,—the higher living creatures of that world neither walked as the animals of the dominant type of life on Earth or Mars, nor flew as we do in the dense atmosphere of our glorious mountain world, nor were chained to the depths as the huge beings of the giant planet, but sprang. I asked Arauniel why should this be. "It is the effect of gravitation. Do not you feel how light you are? You see on this world there are two forces at work—the moderate gravitation of Mimas and the less but still felt power of Saturn. One gravitation partly neutralises the other. So by slight exertion these beings leap,—they neither need to walk nor fly; a slight effort overcomes their gravitation. Here, practically, all things belong to two worlds, the little satellite on which they dwell and the mighty planet, like a giant globe (many times the size of the sun in our skies), above them."
The evenings in that little world were wonderfully glorious. There, ever through the sky, were rolling the huge orb and his three rings, and the seven sister-moons ever varying in their phases.
There was nothing here, it seemed, to detain us, save wonder; there was nothing beautiful nor sublime in this world, only things quaint
