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 Saunders was displaying the mutilated portions of his various astronomical instruments; his one uninjured instrument created a sensation. The Centaurians had never seen anything like it. Nothing in that line could compete with it in the museum at Centur, and they warned Saunders his little, old telescope would be seized by the government to be exhibited as a rare curio. He would be compensated, of course, of course—any one could see Saunders grow.

Sheldon was very important—irritatingly so—and had assumed an attitude of condescension little short of cuss words. He had quite the largest group of listeners, and was explaining with authoritative distinctness the many points of interest upon his map of the world.

But I culled the attention of all by distributing a few gold and silver coins, and this little generosity begot a tremendously new sensation. For the first time in my life I was the recipient of thanks, the value exceeding by far the gift; and under the unusual experience I became awkward, blushed and stammered.

What a startling, barbaric custom! Thanks! thanks! thanks! Prevailing etiquette of our world voted acceptance in any form, but a blasé, indifferent manner, the acme of vulgarity. Favor conferred in acceptance—the recipient's due, etc. Scientists delved into chaos, feverishly pursuing a wraith-like, fascinating substance, they labeled Gratitude, but the experts failed to discover the