"In the light of these larger analogies," my father would continue, "why
are we not further permitted to conclude that there is a more intimate
and minute correlation. Why can not we predicate that under similar
climatic and atmospheric vicissitudes, with a very probably similar or
identical origin with our globe, this planet Mars, now burning red in
the evening skies, possesses life, an organic retinue of forms like our
own, or at least involving such primary principles as respiration,
assimilation and productiveness, as would produce some biological
aspects not extremely differing from those seen in our own sphere.

"If we imagine, as we are most rationally allowed to, that Mars has
undergone a progressive secularization in cooling, that contraction has
acted upon its surface as it has on ours, that water has accumulated in
basins and depressed troughs, that atmospheric currents have been
started, that meteorological changes in consequence have followed, and
that the range of physical conditions embraces phases naturally very
much like those that have prevailed in our planet, how can it be
intelligently questioned that from these very identical circumstances,
an order of life has not in some way arisen."

My father had an interesting habit of snapping his fingers on both hands
together over his head when he declaimed in this way, always circling
about the room in a rapid stride. I remember he stopped in front of me
and continued in a strain something like this:

"For myself I am convinced that there has been an evolution in the order
of beings from one planet to another, that there is going on a stream of
transference, from one plane of life here to planes elsewhere, and that
the stream is pouring in as well as out of this world, and that it may
be, in our case, pouring both ways, that is, we may be losing