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I found considerable pleasure in experimenting with this mysterious power that pulled me about until I at last, by practice, became accustomed to its management, and could travel in any direction I liked within the angles of the lines of force. But this became very trying work; my arms felt as though they were drawn out of their sockets. I wished I could now meet another figure floating about, as I would be able to converse with it, if it spoke any language that I understood; but I had lost my chance, at least, for the present. I could see nothing but the stars and the moon that looked terribly bright and distinct; I imagined I saw a second moon below me, but its outline was only dimly bright. Could it be possible that this was the earth that I had left? If it was so, how could I ever get back to it again? Was I forever to float about in space like that poor desolate figure that I had passed? Would my beard grow like his and stream about me as his did? Would my limbs become gaunt? Would my eyes become fixed and glazed as his were?