# The Diothas, or, A Far Look Ahead/Chapter 13

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During an interval in the labor of the following morning, Utis informed me that business called him that day to Nuiore. Under ordinary circumstances he would make the journey by rail. But he now proposed to go by curricle, in order to afford me an opportunity of seeing the country.
Soon after the morning concert, accordingly, we set out at an easy rate of about fifteen miles an hour. I could not sufficiently admire the uniform smoothness of the roads, the high cultivation of the land, and the general air of completeness in every thing. Observing that the ground, wherever visible, was as moist as if rain had fallen, which I knew not to be the case, I inquired the reason.
"That," said Utis, "is the effect of irrigation. Whenever rain does not afford a sufficient supply, the water stored up, as I before mentioned, is let out between the furrows. We have attained, it is true, to a certain control over the rain-supply; but that control extends rather to the regulation of the general average than of the supply in detail. Irrigation is the basis of our agricul​ture. Without that, every thing is, to a great extent, a matter of chance. With irrigation, we not only secure the utmost yield from a rich soil, but raise fair crops from almost pure sand."
My attention was frequently called, as we sped along, to spots of high historic interest. But to me the names were without interest, awoke no associations; even as to Alfred, if permitted to revisit the land he loved so well, and so well defended, Hastings, Runnymede, Marston Moor, would be but empty sounds.
On reaching the summit of the highest ground intervening between us and the city, we came in view of what I supposed, at first, to be an extensive lake, glittering in the rays of the morning sun.
"That is the roof of the Winter Garden," was the information I received. "We can spare the time for a brief inspection."
Those who have seen the so-called Crystal Palace at Sydenham may form some faint conception of the immense structure now before us. Imagine a surface of fully one hundred acres, under one roof of ualin. In general, the height of the roof was not more than thirty feet; it, in places, it rose to a height sufficient to enclose palms and other tropical trees of the loftiest species. These, however, were confined to a comparatively small area of the entire enclosure.
In some places extensive areas were laid down under permanent sward. Elsewhere were seen vineyards and orchards. The vines and fruit-trees in these were so trained as not to blossom till November, when the whole area was covered in and heated to a moderate tempera​ture. At the time of my visit, however, the greater part of the ground was under crops,—the second of the year, as I was given to understand. After this second crop was harvested, the ground would again be carefully tilled, and planted with crops requiring much manual attention.
During the winter many people, advised to do so by their physicians, took up their residence under this gigantic roof. Houses were, of course, unnecessary; but light tents were set up for the sake of the desired privacy. Here, in an equable temperature, never allowed to rise above seventy degrees Fahrenheit, they pursued, for the most part, their usual occupations. and amused themselves with gardening. Long experience had enabled them so to adjust the proportions of plant-life and animal-life under the vast enclosure, that the atmosphere within always remained pure and health-giving.
Being here within easy reach of their friends, the Winter Garden being also frequently made the scene of outdoor festivities not permitted elsewhere by the season, the inmates enjoyed all the benefit of a residence in a mild climate without the separation from loved persons and associations that often more than neutralizes the benefit of climate.
I may mention, in this connection, that the winter climate of the North-Atlantic region had, from various causes, become greatly ameliorated from its present severity. The winter climate of Nuiore had thus come greatly to resemble that of Northern Italy. The orange, the fig, the pomegranate, and the citron were as much at home on the banks of the Hudson as are now the peach and the vine. Many species of bamboo, and other useful ​or ornamental plants similarly acclimatized, would at times, unexpectedly meeting my eye. make me doubt for a moment whether these were really the once familiar banks of the Mohegan.
Yet, comparatively mild as the climate had become, it must have been pleasant to resort, on occasion, to these winter-gardens, to feast the eye, if only for a brief space, with the sight of orchard and orange-grove in full bloom, or covered with rich fruit, in the dead of winter. Here, too, was kept an extensive collection of strange animals. The larger carnivora, it is true, had long since become extinct as the mammoth; all attempts at preserving specimens in captivity having ultimately failed. There were, however, fine specimens of the elephant, the camel, and other semi-domestic animals. But the great attraction, the glory of the garden, were the herds of cows and of horses, so familiar by name in the early history of mankind, but now never seen except in such collections.
It was not long after leaving this charming spot, of which I had to content myself with a hasty inspection, when the city began to show in the distance. Soon the faint hum became more audible as it was borne to our ears on the sea-breeze that tempered the warmth of the hot July sun.
We entered the city by one of the avenues assigned to the use of curricles. This was called the Avenue of Sciences. The emblematic statues, at the cross-streets, represented the various sciences in the persons of the two, one of each sex, who had most highly contributed to the advancement of that science.
​The aspect of this great thoroughfare was much the same as that of the street I had first seen. The like ranges of lofty buildings, with their columned arcades, extended seaward in long perspective. Similar throngs of pedestrians passed along the colonnades, or over the bridges that spanned the street. No pedestrian trespassed on the central causeway, which was thronged with curricles in rapid motion, though not so rapid as in the open country. I had myself guided my curricle till we entered the city: then I was glad to relinquish the tiller to the more experienced hands of my companion.
When we had proceeded down town to about where Union Square now stands, Utis drew up beside the curbstone, behind a long line of empty curricles. Following his guidance, I ascended with him to the topmost story of the building before which we had halted. On emerging from the elevator, we found ourselves on the roof, at a height to which the sounds of the busy world below ascended only as a faint murmur. The change of scene had all the suddenness of a theatrical transformation. It was like being at once transported from the midst of Broadway at its busiest to the calm of an unfrequented islet in the Southern Ocean.
The general aspect of all around me might have lent itself to such an illusion. Here we found ourselves in the midst of trees, flowers, and carpet-like sward. Those that remained in the city in charge of the buildings, or confined there by other duties, cut off, with their families, from the ordinary delights of the country, had here created for themselves a peculiar landscape.
It is difficult to convey an idea of the scene. Imagine ​long strips of verdure, limited in width to about thirty yards, but extending in length for miles. Parallel with these, and connected with them by shorter strips, were similar long stretches of garden, extending to where, in the horizon, they narrowed to converging lines. The verdure-clad atolls of the Pacific would afford, perhaps, the nearest approach to their appearance, if we could picture to ourselves those atolls as fenced in by balustrades of stone having on the farther side, not the glassy ocean, but a precipitous chasm. At the point where we had emerged into this aerial garden we might be about two miles from its southern extremity.
"I have some professional business to attend to," said Utis, after indicating to me the points of interest in the landscape. Meanwhile you may proceed leisurely toward the tower you see at the seaward extremity of this garden. As there is a fine view from the top, and other matters of interest, I shall probably find you there when I return."