founds human reason; man will never conceive it,
whatever else he may be permitted to conceive.

"Between each point in space occupied in succession by that ball,"
continued the man of science, "there is an abyss confronting human
reason, an abyss into which Pascal fell. In order to produce any
effect upon an unknown substance, we ought first of all to study that
substance; to know whether, in accordance with its nature, it will be
broken by the force of a blow, or whether it will withstand it; if it
breaks in pieces, and you have no wish to split it up, we shall not
achieve the end proposed. If you want to compress it, a uniform impulse
must be communicated to all the particles of the substance, so as to
diminish the interval that separates them in an equal degree. If you
wish to expand it, we should try to bring a uniform eccentric force to
bear on every molecule; for unless we conform accurately to this law,
we shall have breaches in continuity. The modes of motion, sir, are
infinite, and no limit exists to combinations of movement. Upon what
effect have you determined?"

"I want any kind of pressure that is strong enough to expand the skin
indefinitely," began Raphael, quite of out patience.

"Substance is finite," the mathematician put in, "and therefore will not
admit of indefinite expansion, but pressure will necessarily increase
the extent of surface at the expense of the thickness, which will be
diminished until the point is reached when the material gives out----"

"Bring about that result, sir," Raphael cried, "and you will have earned
millions."

"Then I should rob you of your money," replied the other, phlegmatic as
a Dutchman. "I am going to show you, in a word or two, that a machine
can be made that is fit to crush Providence itself in pieces like a fly.
It would reduce a man to the conditions of a piece of waste paper; a
man--boots and spurs, hat and cravat, trinkets and gold, and all----"

"What a fearful machine!"

"Instead of flinging their brats into the water, the Chinese ought
to make them useful in this way," the man of science went on, without
reflecting on the regard man has for his progeny.

Quite absorbed by his idea, Planchette took an empty flower-pot, with a
hole in the bottom, and put it on the surface of the dial, then he
went to look for a little clay in a corner of the garden. Raphael stood
spellbound, like a child to whom his nurse is telling some wonderful
story. Planchette p