around where Utis had his home. Yet this was nothing exceptional. Everywhere this same state of things was to be seen. Not a waste corner, not a weed, was visible. Between field and garden there was no distinction, except in the nature of the crop. The extensive areas under one crop reminded me somewhat of what I had seen in some Western States.
"We need no fences," said Utis, in reply to an observa- tion of mine; "since there are no cattle to keep, either out or in."
"No cattle!" I exclaimed. "Whence, then, that rich milk, that excellent beef-steak, that made its appearance on the breakfast-table this morning?"
"Our milk," replied Utis, "is an artificial product pre- pared from maize: so, to a large extent, is our beef, as you call it, and similar articles of food."
"Explain," said I, in some amazement.
"There is nothing very wonderful about the matter," was the reply, "if you keep in mind that chemistry has made some progress since the nineteenth century. Even then, in the very infancy of their science, chemists had succeeded in preparing in the laboratory several valuable substances, previously derived, at greater cost, from field- crops. That was only the beginning of such discoveries. Chemistry long ago ceased to be an experimental art. It is now a strictly deductive science, in which, by the proper manipulation of symbols and formulas, interesting or important discoveries may be made without the necessity of handling a re-agent or an instrument. Our experts are able, not only to imitate any definite compound known to exist in nature, but even to invent others, some of the greatest value.
