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"
Read
it
aloud
,
"
said
he
,
indicating
a
column
with
his
finger
.
"
I
’
d
be
glad
to
hear
it
again
,
for
I
am
not
sure
now
that
I
have
the
man
’
s
meaning
clear
in
my
head
.
"
This
was
the
letter
which
I
read
to
the
news
editor
of
the
Gazette
:
—
"
SCIENTIFIC
POSSIBILITIES
"
"
Sir
,
—
I
have
read
with
amusement
,
not
wholly
unmixed
with
some
less
complimentary
emotion
,
the
complacent
and
wholly
fatuous
letter
of
James
Wilson
MacPhail
which
has
lately
appeared
in
your
columns
upon
the
subject
of
the
blurring
of
Fraunhofer
’
s
lines
in
the
spectra
both
of
the
planets
and
of
the
fixed
stars
.
He
dismisses
the
matter
as
of
no
significance
.
To
a
wider
intelligence
it
may
well
seem
of
very
great
possible
importance
—
so
great
as
to
involve
the
ultimate
welfare
of
every
man
,
woman
,
and
child
upon
this
planet
.
I
can
hardly
hope
,
by
the
use
of
scientific
language
,
to
convey
any
sense
of
my
meaning
to
those
ineffectual
people
who
gather
their
ideas
from
the
columns
of
a
daily
newspaper
.
I
will
endeavour
,
therefore
,
to
condescend
to
their
limitation
and
to
indicate
the
situation
by
the
use
of
a
homely
analogy
which
will
be
within
the
limits
of
the
intelligence
of
your
readers
.
"
"
Man
,
he
’
s
a
wonder
—
a
living
wonder
!
"
said
McArdle
,
shaking
his
head
reflectively
.
"
He
’
d
put
up
the
feathers
of
a
sucking
-
dove
and
set
up
a
riot
in
a
Quakers
’
meeting
.
No
wonder
he
has
made
London
too
hot
for
him
.
It
’
s
a
peety
,
Mr
.
Malone
,
for
it
’
s
a
grand
brain
!
We
’
ll
let
’
s
have
the
analogy
.
"
"
We
will
suppose
,
"
I
read
,
"
that
a
small
bundle
of
connected
corks
was
launched
in
a
sluggish
current
upon
a
voyage
across
the
Atlantic
.
The
corks
drift
slowly
on
from
day
to
day
with
the
same
conditions
all
round
them
.
If
the
corks
were
sentient
we
could
imagine
that
they
would
consider
these
conditions
to
be
permanent
and
assured
.
But
we
,
with
our
superior
knowledge
,
know
that
many
things
might
happen
to
surprise
the
corks
.
They
might
possibly
float
up
against
a
ship
,
or
a
sleeping
whale
,
or
become
entangled
in
seaweed
.
In
any
case
,
their
voyage
would
probably
end
by
their
being
thrown
up
on
the
rocky
coast
of
Labrador
.
But
what
could
they
know
of
all
this
while
they
drifted
so
gently
day
by
day
in
what
they
thought
was
a
limitless
and
homogeneous
ocean
?
"
Your
readers
will
possibly
comprehend
that
the
Atlantic
,
in
this
parable
,
stands
for
the
mighty
ocean
of
ether
through
which
we
drift
and
that
the
bunch
of
corks
represents
the
little
and
obscure
planetary
system
to
which
we
belong
.
A
third
-
rate
sun
,
with
its
rag
tag
and
bobtail
of
insignificant
satellites
,
we
float
under
the
same
daily
conditions
towards
some
unknown
end
,
some
squalid
catastrophe
which
will
overwhelm
us
at
the
ultimate
confines
of
space
,
where
we
are
swept
over
an
etheric
Niagara
or
dashed
upon
some
unthinkable
Labrador
.
I
see
no
room
here
for
the
shallow
and
ignorant
optimism
of
your
correspondent
,
Mr
.
James
Wilson
MacPhail
,
but
many
reasons
why
we
should
watch
with
a
very
close
and
interested
attention
every
indication
of
change
in
those
cosmic
surroundings
upon
which
our
own
ultimate
fate
may
depend
.
"
"
Man
,
he
’
d
have
made
a
grand
meenister
,
"
said
McArdle
.
"
It
just
booms
like
an
organ
.
Let
’
s
get
doun
to
what
it
is
that
’
s
troubling
him
.
"
