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compulsory?” I said. “But if Meccanians are so advanced in the cultivation of the drama, why should it be necessary to enforce attendance?”

      “Perhaps it is not really necessary, but I doubt whether our scheme of dramatic culture could be carried out without strict regulation. For instance, there are some plays more popular than others. People would want to see these plays in great numbers and there would not be room for them; whilst the less popular plays would not be well attended.”

      “Just so,” I said, “that is what one would naturally expect; and where is the harm?”

      “Our scheme provides a succession of plays throughout the year, all designed as part of our culture, and if people were at liberty to pick and choose what they would see, and what they would not see, we should have no guarantee that they would have gone through the course.”

      “Would that matter,” I asked, “so long as they were amused?”

      “May I repeat that the Meccanian drama is something more than amusement,” he replied testily. “You will learn more of this subject from Dr. Dodderer. We need not pursue it further.”

      “Then may I ask whether attendance at concerts is compulsory also?”

      “It is not compulsory, but it is strictly regulated as regards the different grades of music,” he answered.

      “I should like to know how you regulate attendance at concerts,” I said; “I have never heard of it elsewhere.”

      “I dare say not,” said Prigge. “Other countries are still in a very backward state as regards musical culture. In the first place, all persons below eighteen have to pass an examination in some branch of practical or theoretical music, unless they are defective in the musical sense. Then, before any adult is admitted to the first, second or third grades of concerts, he has to pass an examination in musical appreciation. That is to say, only those are admitted to concerts of the first class who hold a first-class certificate in musical appreciation, and so on with the other grades. Otherwise we should have people whose musical knowledge is very moderate listening to the best music by the best performers. By means of our system we can provide exactly the right standard of music at all public concerts. At the beginning of each season the programmes of all the concerts of the first three grades are issued. Each person enters his name for a course of concerts according to the grade of musical culture attained by him. He is informed how many concerts he may attend in the season; he then chooses which concerts he will attend, and after that there is no difficulty.”

      “No,” said I, “I should think there would be no difficulty after such careful preparation. Then the open-air concerts in the beer gardens,” I said; “where do they come in?”

      “Those are not regulated in the same way. We can tell from the Time Department whether any person is spending too much time at these performances, and any person who neglects to pass his examination in musical appreciation before the age of thirty is forbidden to attend such concerts—if they can be called concerts—more than once a week.”

      “And is it possible to carry out such a regulation?” I asked.

      “You have not studied our Time Department to much purpose if you ask such a question,” answered Prigge.

      “I suppose, then,” I said, “as I have no certificate I shall not be permitted to hear any of your best music?”

      “Foreigners who are Doctors of Music of any University,” replied Prigge, “are admitted by special leave of the Ministry of Culture to attend a specified number of concerts even of the first grade, and others can attend a few concerts of the third grade, likewise by special permission of the Ministry of Culture.”

      I think it was on the same day that Prigge said to me, “I notice you are not wearing your spectacles.”

      “I have never worn spectacles,” I said.

      “But you were ordered to wear spectacles by Dr. Pincher.”

      “He did prescribe them,” I said, “but I have not troubled to get them, as I do not really require them.”

      Conductor Prigge looked positively aghast. “You must go at once,” he said; “you have the address. You had better pretend that there has been some delay—but no, your diary will show that you have not been to the optician. You will certainly be fined in accordance with Regulation 127 of the Instructions to Foreign Observers.”

      I went accordingly, and in a few days I had the spectacles. I suppose this incident caused me to notice that nearly all Meccanians wear spectacles or eyeglasses. Some wear two pairs at once, and I have seen even three pairs worn. I felt thankful nothing wrong with my teeth had been discovered.

      A day or two later I was taken by Prigge to see Dr. Dodderer. What I learnt from him was even more remarkable than what my conductor had told me, so I will not apologise for giving a fairly full account of my interview.

      We were due at ten o’clock, and a whole hour had been reserved for me. As we entered his room he noted the exact time on his tablet and said, “The object of your visit is to learn something of the Meccanian drama, as part of the system of culture, and the relation of amusement to our system of culture. Very good; if you will be seated I will do my best to enlighten you.”

      He was a dried-up little man, with bright black eyes and a narrow but lofty forehead. I thanked him and prepared to listen. I knew he would think me disrespectful if I did not make use of my notebook, so I prepared to make copious notes.

      When he saw I was ready, he sat with his eyes shut and his hands clasped together in front of him, and proceeded to pour forth a long discourse. He began by saying that all the higher animals showed some disposition towards play; and that, in particular, the human animal was pre-eminently distinguished in this respect. Some anthropologists had argued that the persistence of the play-instinct was a proof of the essential usefulness of play, in developing both muscular and intellectual power. He himself did not adopt this view, or, at any rate, only in a modified form. He held that play was one of the most wasteful methods of nature, and that if the competition between the various races and subdivisions of the human species had been perfect, the race that could reduce play to an absolute minimum, confined perhaps to the first three years of life, would—ceteris paribus—succeed in winning the foremost place. Play was certainly the least profitable form of mental activity, and one of the problems of education was the gradual elimination of play from the scheme of national culture. It was unfortunately true that even the best system of education had to make concessions to this instinct of play, and it would take many generations before it could be reduced to a minimum. But the experiments of the Meccanian psychologists had demonstrated that the amount necessary, both in the case of children and in the case of adults, had been grossly exaggerated in the past, and was still grossly exaggerated by other nations. These experiments would have been impossible without the assistance of the Time Department, and the absence of a Time Department in other countries probably accounted for the little progress they had made in this direction.

      “For example,” he continued, “other nations have almost entirely neglected the value of cultural toys. They have been content, even where they have given any thought at all to the subject, to devise toys which gave a little more opportunity for ingenuity, but their object has been mainly to amuse; they have had no clear conception of the ultimate purpose of toys in a complete cultural scheme. Now we have a carefully thought-out scheme, and although it does not come under my department, but under Section A1, it affords a good illustration of the basis of our system. All our toys are classified in fifteen stages. We began with only five stages, but the number has gradually increased, for the system necessarily becomes more complex as it becomes more perfect. Stage I. is represented by simple objects which a baby can grasp and recognise before the age of eighteen months. Stage II. is represented by balls and cubes and objects of that order. Stage III. by dolls and images. Stage IV. by objects which can be grouped so as to afford a basis for the teaching of number. Stage V. by simple mechanical toys and simple tools. Stage VI. by constructive blocks of various kinds....”

      Here, I am afraid, I

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