It is no use to pretend that in little over a year I can have become
accustomed to the eventlessness of life in Altruria. I go on for a good
many days together and do not miss the exciting incidents you have in
America, and then suddenly I am wolfishly hungry for the old sensations,
just as now and then I _want meat_, though I know I should loathe the
sight and smell of it if I came within reach of it. You would laugh, I
dare say, at the Altrurian papers, and what they print for news. Most of
the space is taken up with poetry, and character study in the form of
fiction, and scientific inquiry of every kind. But now and then there is
a report of the production of a new play in one of the capitals; or an
account of an open-air pastoral in one of the communes; or the progress
of some public work, like the extension of the National Colonnade; or the
wonderful liberation of some section from malaria; or the story of some
good man or woman's life, ended at the patriarchal age they reach here.
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