'But he is not extinct,' answered Dr. Somers, 'there are hundreds yet in use in the stone quarries of Kempton and in the marble quarries of Middleham.'
'True! but he is doomed; it takes all that an acre of rich land can grow to feed him; he cannot compete with electricity that eats nothing, and he is not so hardy as the ass who picks up his food by the wayside, and does not leave his home. Our feathered friends and a few small playfellows will be all our animals in a few years hence.'
'Very probably,' said Dr. Somers; 'but after all a human life is more valuable than an animal one, and being capable of more happiness ought to be encouraged.'
'So it is,' assented Grayson, 'and more than that, humans themselves are always undergoing selection; nature at the last only conserves the best. The criminal, the pauper, the vagrant, the selfish livers have in turn all had to go, and even the few mostly harmless lunatics found in our asylums are fewer in number each decade, and the number of incurables in our hospitals does not increase. The rigour of our long winters used to kill thousands of our people, but now pulmonary diseases are very rare. To-day we are more numerous, longer lived, healthier, more prosperous, happier than we have ever been.'
'What is the number of our population?' I asked.
'In round numbers five thousand two hundred and thirty-seven millions, about four times the present population of the earth. We are not at a standstill; there is a gradual increase still going on. We number four times as many as dwell on the earth, and that planet is far larger and its resources greater. When the earth has twenty thousand millions of people upon its surface it will not be densely populated,' answered Grayson.
'The Malthusian idea need not trouble earth-dwellers for some ages,' I remarked, looking at Dr. Somers, whom I could see had something to say.
The doctor drew her seat forward and came to where the light revealed her more fully. I then saw that she was a grand and handsome woman, with clearly defined features, a massive forehead, and eyes that seemed capable of at once revealing her soul and exploring the innermost recesses of those around her. She was not young, she might be five and twenty but her face was unwrinkled, and her hair a wavy brown without a thread of gray in it.
I learned afterwards that she was a distinguished physician and a metropolitan teacher of physiology.
Slowly and impressively the doctor began to speak. Evidently she meant to say something final regarding Malthusianism as taught in both worlds. She said:—'We have been speaking in a cursory manner about a subject to which I have paid much thoughtful attention, and about which I feel
