# The Diothas, or, A Far Look Ahead/Chapter 35

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The evening of the day following this excursion was that appointed for the delivery of Reva's lecture. Its theme, that famous thistle, which had thriven wonderfully in the rich soil of its tub, was carried down in the forenoon, and placed on a stand on the platform of the lectureroom. This was in order to afford all an opportunity of closely examining the strange plant, the fame of which had spread far and wide. Though Reva had been careful to snip off every morning all buds that threatened to ripen, the plant still displayed a goodly array of them. Its ultimate fate, whether to be utterly destroyed, or to be spared in order to distribute specimens to be kept, under suitable precautions, by the curators of botanical gardens, was yet to be determined by the council of elders.
Since the attendance promised to be unusually large, it had been resolved to employ the great dining-hall instead of the ordinary lecture-room. As a matter of convenience also, those intending to be present at the lecture, that is, practically all the inhabitants of the district, besides many invited guests, were to dine in the great hall as on the Day of Rest.
​During the afternoon I had an opportunity of seeing and taking part in the great game of dorris, so popular among the young people of the period. It is difficult to describe clearly, but might be fairly described as a sort. of complicated game resembling Jawn-tennis. An extensive level space was marked off by white lines into a hundred squares, each about twelve yards square. In each of these a young lady, and her partner assigned for the day, took their stand, to defend it against the pair facing them in the next square. Squares were lost or won, much as a game of tennis among us, by the more or less skilful use of the raquet, the line between the squares taking the place of the net. The defeated players relinquished their square to the victors, who attacked in their turn the next defended square before them; taking care, however, to avoid the risk of capture by separating too far from the rest of their side.
The captains were enabled to distinguish their players, fifty pairs of each, by their colors. The victory depended upon the skill of the captain in disposing his or her best players to the best advantage, and in effecting skilful combinations according to certain rules. One great object for any given pair of players was, to work their way to the farther end of their row. In this case they could be placed by their captain on any unoccupied square where they could do most damage to the enemy. The game, the zeruan and their allies against the vioran and theirs, was contested with great spirit on both sides. Reva and I had the skill, or good fortune, to capture three squares before being, in our turn, retired, till summoned by our captain to take the place of a pair on our side requiring rest.
​Pleasing as was the implied compliment to our skill, I would not unwillingly have remained, for a while longer, a mere spectator of the animated scene. The fair players, with their shortened skirts, moved with the grace and agility of antelopes; while their bright sashes and caps, red for the zeruan, blue for the vioran, flashed like the wings of bright-hued tropical birds among the more sober tints of the zerdar costume. It was plain that the vioran, notwithstanding their zeal and activity, and that the best partners had been assigned to them, were overmatched by the greater skill and experience of the zeruan, their seniors by a few years.
Reva, who had made the same observation during her enforced inactivity, returned with ardor to the aid of her hard-pressed companions. She was surprised as well as pleased at the skill I showed with the raquet, as she explained to me daring a pause in our efforts. This led, on my part, to an exposition of the nature of lawn-tennis. Thus, again, led me to betray the fact, that, during the past week, I had been preparing for her a surprise in the form of a series of sketches from memory of Edith Alston in various costumes, tennis, yachting, riding. I felt amply rewarded for my labors by the flush of pleased surprise that lighted up the beautiful face, and the thanks expressed in the bright eyes that looked so frankly into mine. But no more was said at the moment, as we were summoned into action.
"Why did you speak of those sketches?" said Reva, when next we were at leisure. "I can think of nothing else. If I lose the thread of my discourse to-night," she added, laughing, "I hope you will feel duly repentant."
​On my proposal to go for them at once, she assented, after some demur on account of the shortness of the time. But by arranging for a substitute to take my place, and being able to employ a flying speed on the almost deserted roads, I returned, with a few minutes to spare, before the dinner-hour. I found Reva standing amid a group of her fair cousins, who were discussing with animation the late contest. Thanking me with a look, and the customary graceful gesture, for the small portfolio I had delivered as if executing an ordinary commission, she hastened away to examine its contents in private.
After the clearing away of the hall after dinner, and the arrangement of the seats, there was an interlude of music. Then came on the event of the evening. In the opening part of her lecture, Reva treated the scientific and economic aspects of her subject with a clearness and precision that evidently gained the approval of those present specially competent to express an opinion on those points. The most generally interesting part, however, was the second half, as could be seen by the eager attention of the audience. This was an essay upon the character and genius of that ancient people who had adopted the plant before them as their national emblem,—people that, for their numbers, had played no mean part in the world's history, and round whose rugged land the genius of one of her sons had cast a glamour that had survived the rise and fall of mighty empires.
At intervals, during this part of the lecture, views of the places referred to were exhibited by means of the varzeo. By this, as in a magic mirror, we saw displayed. ​before our eyes distant scenes, not as they had been at some past time, but as they appeared at that moment. The mirror was, in reality, a peculiar metallic screen, to which were transferred, somewhat as sound is by the telephone, the pictures falling upon a suitably prepared screen placed before the scene to be transferred. I saw with astonishment the scene of the battle of Largs bathed in the summer moonlight, that shimmered in the rippled waters of the Clyde, and obscurely revealed the outlines of the isle of Cumbrae. Trees waved in the wind, a ship at anchor rocked in the rising tide, small clouds passing before the moon would temporarily obscure the midnight scene. While the audience gazed in silence on this living picture, Ulmene, at the fine instrument belonging to the ball, softly played an improvisation, introducing such selections from the national airs as her exquisite taste judged appropriate to the scene.
In a similar manner was displayed to our eyes "the castled crag" of Edinburgh, crowned with edifices whose forms were but indistinctly discernible in the moonlight, here much interrupted by flying scud. Glencoe, again, was evidently the focus of a violent storm. Naught could be seen but an occasional glimpse, from amid rolling masses of vapor, of a mountain peak of savage grandeur; while from the organ pealed the wild notes of a Highland pibroch, now heard, probably, for the first time after an interval of thousands of years.
In spite of the disadvantages arising in the views of some localities from the untoward state of the weather, a difficulty to which exhibitions with the varzeo were liable, Reva had reason to be gratified with the reception ​accorded to her lecture. Though Hulmar said nothing, I could well see that he was abundantly satisfied. Well he might be for, as Ialma told me on our way home,—Reva went home with her father,—the elders asserted it to be the most successful lecture within their recollection.