The original form of matter is gas.  Almost as I write comes the announcement that Mr. Lockyer has proved that all the so-called primary elements of matter are only so many different sized molecules of one original substance—­hydrogen.  Whether that is true or not, let us now create all the hydrogen we can [Page 7] imagine, either in differently sized masses or in combination with other substances.  There it is!  We cannot measure its bulk; we cannot fly around it in any recordable eons of time.  It has boundaries, to be sure, for we are finite, but we cannot measure them.  Let it alone, now; leave it to itself.  What follows?  It is dowered simply with attraction.  The vast mass begins to shrink, the outer portions are drawn inward.  They rush and swirl in vast cyclones, thousands of miles in extent.  The centre grows compact, heat is evolved by impact, as will be explained in Chapter ii.  Dull red light begins to look like coming dawn.  Centuries go by; contraction goes on; light blazes in insufferable brightness; tornadoes, whirlpools, and tempests scarcely signify anything as applied to such tumultuous tossing.

There hangs the only world in existence; it hangs in empty space.  It has no tendency to rise; none to fall; none to move at all in any direction.  It seethes and, flames, and holds itself together by attractive power, and that is all the force with which we have endowed it.

Leave it there alone, and withdraw millions of miles into space:  it looks smaller and smaller.  We lose sight of those distinctive spires of flame, those terrible movements.  It only gives an even effulgence, a steady unflickering light.  Turn one quarter round.  Still we see our world, but it is at one side.

Now in front, in the utter darkness, suddenly create another world of the same size, and at the same distance from you.  There they stand—­two huge, lone bodies, in empty space.  But we created them dowered with attraction.  Each instantly feels the drawing influence of the other.  They are mutually attractive, and begin to [Page 8] move toward each other.  They hasten along an undeviating straight line.  Their speed quickens at every mile.  The attraction increases every moment.  They fly swift as thought.  They dash their flaming, seething foreheads together.

And now we have one world again.  It is twice as large as before, that is all the difference.  There is no variety, neither any motion; just simple flame, and nothing to be warmed thereby.  Are our creative powers exhausted by this effort?

[Illustration:  Fig. 1.—­Orbit A D, resulting from attraction, A C, and projectile force, A B.]