“Well, my friends, this distance from Neptune to the sun is nothing compared to that of the stars, some of which are billions of leagues from the sun!  And yet people speak of the distance that separates the planets from the sun!  Do you know what I think of this universe that begins with the sun and ends at Neptune?  Should you like to know my theory?  It is a very simple one.  According to my opinion, the solar universe is one solid homogeneous mass; the planets that compose it are close together, crowd one another, and the space between them is only the space that separates the molecules of the most compact metal—­silver, iron, or platinum!  I have, therefore, the right to affirm, and I will repeat it with a conviction you will all share—­distance is a vain word; distance does not exist!”

“Well said!  Bravo!  Hurrah!” cried the assembly with one voice, electrified by the gesture and accent of the orator, and the boldness of his conceptions.

“No!” cried J.T.  Maston, more energetically than the others; “distance does not exist!”

And, carried away by the violence of his movements and emotions he could hardly contain, he nearly fell from the top of the platform to the ground.  But he succeeded in recovering his equilibrium, and thus avoided a fall that would have brutally proved distance not to be a vain word.  Then the speech of the distinguished orator resumed its course.

“My friends,” said he, “I think that this question is now solved.  If I have not convinced you all it is because I have been timid in my demonstrations, feeble in my arguments, and you must set it down to my theoretic ignorance.  However that may be, I repeat, the distance from the earth to her satellite is really very unimportant and unworthy to occupy a serious mind.  I do not think I am advancing too much in saying that soon a service of trains will be established by projectiles, in which the journey from the earth to the moon will be comfortably accomplished.  There will be no shocks nor running off the lines to fear, and the goal will be reached rapidly, without fatigue, in a straight line, ‘as the crow flies.’  Before twenty years are over, half the earth will have visited the moon!”

“Three cheers for Michel Ardan!” cried the assistants, even those least convinced.

“Three cheers for Barbicane!” modestly answered the orator.

This act of gratitude towards the promoter of the enterprise was greeted with unanimous applause.

“Now, my friends,” resumed Michel Ardan, “if you have any questions to ask me you will evidently embarrass me, but still I will endeavour to answer you.”

Until now the president of the Gun Club had reason to be very satisfied with the discussion.  It had rolled upon speculative theories, upon which Michel Ardan, carried away by his lively imagination, had shown himself very brilliant.  He must, therefore, be prevented from deviating towards practical questions, which he would doubtless not come out of so well.  Barbicane made haste to speak, and asked his new friend if he thought that the moon or the planets were inhabited.