This is the hiding-place of the lightning, of the electrons which moulded together make the thunderbolt.  What an underworld of mystery and power it is!  In it slumbers all the might and menace of the storm, the power that rends the earth and shakes the heavens.  With the mind’s eye one can see the indivisible atoms giving up their electrons, see the invisible hosts, in numbers beyond the power of mathematics to compute, being summoned and marshalled by some mysterious commander and hurled in terrible fiery phalanxes across the battlefield of the storm.

The physicist describes the atom and talks about it as if it were “a tangible body which one could hold in his hand like a baseball.”  “An atom,” Sir Oliver Lodge says, “consists of a globular mass of positive electricity with minute negative electrons embedded in it.”  He speaks of the spherical form of the atom, and of its outer surface, of its centre, and of its passing through other atoms, and of the electrons that revolve around its centre as planets around a sun.  The electron, one hundred thousand times smaller than an atom, yet has surface, and that surface is a dimpled and corrugated sheet—­like the cover of a mattress.  What a flight of the scientific imagination is that!

The disproportion between the size of an atom and the size of an electron is vastly greater than that between the sun and the earth.  Represent an atom, says Sir Oliver Lodge, by a church one hundred and sixty feet long, eighty feet broad, and forty feet high; the electrons are like gnats inside it.  Yet on the electric theory of matter, electrons are all of the atom there is; there is no church, but only the gnats rushing about.  We know of nothing so empty and hollow, so near a vacuum, as matter in this conception of it.  Indeed, in the new physics, matter is only a hole in the ether.  Hence the newspaper joke about the bank sliding down and leaving the woodchuck-hole sticking out, looks like pretty good physics.  The electrons give matter its inertia, and give it the force we call cohesion, give it its toughness, its strength, and all its other properties.  They make water wet, and the diamond hard.  They are the fountain-head of the immense stores of the inter-atomic energy, which, if it could be tapped and controlled, would so easily do all the work of the world.  But this we cannot do.  “We are no more competent,” says Professor Soddy, “to make use of these supplies of atomic energy than a savage, ignorant of how to kindle a fire, could make use of a steam-engine.”  The natural rate of flow of this energy from its atomic sources we get as heat, and it suffices to keep life going upon this planet.  It is the source of all the activity we see upon the globe.  Its results, in the geologic ages, are stored up for us in coal and oil and natural gas, and, in our day, are available in the winds, the tides, and the waterfalls, and in electricity.

IV