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"It is possible," I replied.
"Not only possible, but probable. Not only probable, but true. Across
the intervening brine strata above the salt crystals the surface rivers
may flow, indeed, owing to differences in specific gravity the surface
of the lake may be comparatively fresh, while in the quiet depths
below, beds of salt crystals are forming, and between these
extremes may rest strata after strata of saline solutions, decreasing
in gravity towards the top."
Then he took his manuscript, and continued to read in a clear,
musical voice, while I sat a more contented listener than I had been
previously. I was not only confuted, but convinced. And I recalled
the saying of Socrates, that no better fortune can happen a man
than to be confuted in an error.
MY UNBIDDEN GUEST CONTINUES
READING HIS MANUSCRIPT.
 CHAPTER XXI.

MY WEIGHT DISAPPEARING.
We halted suddenly, for we came unexpectedly to the edge of a
precipice, twenty feet at least in depth.
"Let us jump down," said my guide.
"That would be dangerous," I answered; "can not we descend at
some point where it is not so deep?"
"No; the chasm stretches for miles across our path, and at this point
we will meet with the least difficulty; besides, there is no danger.
The specific gravity of our bodies is now so little that we could jump
twice that distance with impunity."
"I can not comprehend you; we are in the flesh, our bodies are
possessed of weight, the concussion will be violent."
"You reason again from the condition of your former life, and, as
usual, are mistaken; there will be little shock, for, as I have said, our
bodies are comparatively light now. Have you forgotten that your
motion is continuously accelerated, and that without perceptible
exertion you move rapidly? This is partly because of the loss of
weight. Your weight would now be only about fifty pounds if tested
by a spring balance."
I stood incredulous.
"You trifle with me; I weigh over one hundred and fifty pounds; how
have I lost weight? It is true that I have noticed the ease with which
we have recently progressed on our journey, especially the latter
part of it, but I attribute this, in part, to the fact that our course is
down an incline, and also to the vitalizing power of this cavern air."
"This explains part of the matter," he said; "it
answered at the time, and I stated a fact; but
were it not that you are really consuming a
comparatively small amount of energy, you
would long before this have been completely
exhausted. You have been gaining strength for
some hours; have really been growing younger.
Your wrinkled face has become more smooth,
and your voice is again natural. You were
prematurely aged by your brothers on the
surface of the earth, in order that when you pass
the line of gravity, you might be vigorous and
enjoying manhood again. Had this aging process
not been accomplished you would now have
"I BOUNDED
become as a child in many respects."
UPWARD
He halted before me. "Jump up," he said. I FULLY SIX
promptly obeyed the unexpected command, and FEET."
sprung upward with sufficient force to carry me,
as I supposed, six inches from the earth; however I bounded
upward fully six feet. My look of surprise as I gently alighted, for
there was no concussion on my return, seemed lost on my guide,
and he quietly said:
"If you can leap six feet upward without excessive exertion, or
return shock, can not you jump twenty feet down? Look!"
And he leaped lightly over the precipice and stood unharmed on the
stony floor below.
Even then I hesitated, observing which, he cried:
"Hang by your hands from the edge then, and drop."
I did so, and the fourteen feet of fall seemed to affect me as though
I had become as light as cork. I fluttered to the earth as a leaf
would fall, and leaned against the precipice in surprised meditation.
 "I FLUTTERED TO THE EARTH AS A LEAF WOULD FALL."
"Others have been through your experience," he remarked, "and I
therefore can overlook your incredulity; but experiences such as you
now meet, remove distrust. Doing is believing." He smiled
benignantly.
I pondered, revolving in my mind the fact that persons had in mental
abstraction, passed through unusual experiences in ignorance of
conditions about them, until their attention had been called to the
seen and yet unnoticed surroundings, and they had then beheld the
facts plainly. The puzzle picture (see p. 129) stares the eye and
impresses the retina, but is devoid of character until the hidden form
is developed in the mind, and then that form is always prominent to
the eye. My remarkably light step, now that my attention had been
directed thereto, was constantly in my mind, and I found myself
suddenly possessed of the strength of a man, but with the weight of
an infant. I raised my feet without an effort; they seemed destitute
 of weight; I leaped about, tumbled, and rolled
over and over on the smooth stone floor without
injury. It appeared that I had become the airy
similitude of my former self, my material
substance having wasted away without a
corresponding impairment of strength. I pinched
my flesh to be assured that all was not a dream,
and then endeavored to convince myself that I
was the victim of delirium; but in vain. Too
sternly my self-existence confronted me as a
reality, a cruel reality. A species of intoxication
possessed me once more, and I now hoped for
the end, whatever it might be. We resumed our
journey, and rushed on with increasing rapidity,
"WE LEAPED
galloping hand in hand, down, down, ever
OVER GREAT
downward into the illuminated crevice of the
INEQUALITIES.
earth. The spectral light by which we were
"
aureoled increased in intensity, as by
arithmetical progression, and I could now
distinguish objects at a considerable distance before us. My spirits
rose as if I were under the influence of a potent stimulant; a
liveliness that was the opposite of my recent despondency had
gained control, and I was again possessed of a delicious mental
sensation, to which I can only refer as a most rapturous exhilaration.
My guide grasped my hand firmly, and his touch, instead of revolting
me as formerly it had done, gave pleasure. We together leaped over
great inequalities in the floor, performing these aerial feats almost as
easily as a bird flies. Indeed, I felt that I possessed the power of
flight, for we bounded fearlessly down great declivities and over
abysses that were often perpendicular, and many times our height. A
very slight muscular exertion was sufficient to carry us rods of
distance, and almost tiptoeing we skimmed with ever-increasing
speed down the steeps of that unknown declivity. At length my guide
held back; we gradually lessened our velocity, and, after a time,
rested beside a horizontal substance that lay before us, apparently a
sheet of glass, rigid, immovable, immeasurably great, that stretched
as a level surface before us, vividly distinct in the brightness of an
earth light, that now proved to be superior to sunshine. Far as the
eye could reach, the glassy barrier to our further progress spread as
a crystal mirror in front, and vanishing in the distance, shut off the
beyond.

"FAR AS THE EYE COULD REACH THE

GLASSY BARRIER SPREAD AS A
CRYSTAL MIRROR."
INTERLUDE.—THE STORY AGAIN
INTERRUPTED.
 CHAPTER XXII.

MY UNBIDDEN GUEST DEPARTS.

Once more I must presume to interrupt this narrative, and call back
the reader's thoughts from those mysterious caverns through which
we have been tracing the rapid footsteps of the man who was
abducted, and his uncouth pilot of the lower realms. Let us now see
and hear what took place in my room, in Cincinnati, just after my
visitor, known to us as The-Man-Who-Did-It, had finished reading to
me, Lewellyn Drury, the custodian of this manuscript, the curious
chapter relating how the underground explorers lost weight as they
descended in the hollows of the earth. My French clock struck twelve
of its clear silvery notes before the gray-bearded reader finished his
stint for the occasion, and folded his manuscript preparatory to
placing it within his bosom.
"It is past midnight," he said, "and it is time for me to depart; but I
will come to you again within a year.
"Meanwhile, during my absence, search the records, question
authorities, and note such objections as rise therefrom concerning
the statements I have made. Establish or disprove historically, or
scientifically, any portion of the life history that I have given, and
when I return I will hear what you have to say, and meet your
argument. If there is a doubt concerning the authenticity of any part
of the history, investigate; but make no mention to others of the
details of our meetings."
I sat some time in thought, then said: "I decline to concern myself in
verifying the historical part of your narrative. The localities you
mention may be true to name, and it is possible that you have
related a personal history; but I can not perceive that I am
interested in either proving or disproving it. I will say, however, that
it does not seem probable that at any time a man can disappear
from a community, as you claim to have done, and have been the
means of creating a commotion in his neighborhood that affected
political parties, or even led to an unusual local excitement, outside
his immediate circle of acquaintances, for a man is not of sufficient
importance unless he is very conspicuous. By your own admission,
you were simply a studious mechanic, a credulous believer in
alchemistic vagaries, and as I revolve the matter over, I am afraid
that you are now trying to impose on my credulity. The story of a
forcible abduction, in the manner you related, seems to me
incredible, and not worthy of investigation, even had I the inclination
to concern myself in your personal affairs. The statements, however,
that you make regarding the nature of the crust of the earth,
gravitation, light, instinct, and human senses are highly interesting,
and even plausible as you artfully present the subjects, I candidly
admit, and I shall take some pains to make inquiries concerning the
recorded researches of experts who have investigated in that
direction."
"Collect your evidence," said he, "and I shall listen to your views
when I return."
He opened the door, glided away, and I was alone again.
 CHAPTER XXIII.

I QUESTION SCIENTIFIC MEN.—

ARISTOTLE'S ETHER.
Days and weeks passed. When the opportunity presented, I
consulted Dr. W. B. Chapman, the druggist and student of science,
regarding the nature of light and earth, who in turn referred me to
Prof. Daniel Vaughn. This learned man, in reply to my question
concerning gravitation, declared that there was much that men
wished to understand in regard to this mighty force, that might yet
be explained, but which may never become known to mortal man.
"The correlation of forces," said he, "was prominently introduced and
considered by a painstaking scientific writer named Joule, in several
papers that appeared between 1843 and 1850, and he was followed
by others, who engaged themselves in experimenting and theorizing,
and I may add that Joule was indeed preceded in such thought by
Mayer. This department of scientific study just now appears of
unusual interest to scientists, and your questions embrace problems
connected with some phases of its phenomena. We believe that
light, heat, and electricity are mutually convertible, in fact, the
evidences recently opened up to us show that such must be the
case. These agencies or manifestations are now known to be so
related that whenever one disappears others spring into existence.
Study the beautiful experiments and remarkable investigations of Sir
William Thomson in these directions."
"And what of gravitation?" I asked, observing that Prof. Vaughn
neglected to include gravitation among his numerous enumerated
forces, and recollecting that the force gravitation was more closely
connected with my visitor's story than perhaps were any of the
others, excepting the mysterious mid-earth illumination.
"Of that force we are in greater ignorance than of the others," he
replied. "It affects bodies terrestrial and celestial, drawing a material
substance, or pressing to the earth; also holds, we believe, the earth
and all other bodies in position in the heavens, thus maintaining the
equilibrium of the planets. Seemingly gravitation is not derived from,
or sustained by, an external force, or supply reservoir, but is an
intrinsic entity, a characteristic of matter that decreases in intensity
at the rate of the square of the increasing distance, as bodies recede
from each other, or from the surface of the earth. However,
gravitation neither escapes by radiation from bodies nor needs to be
replenished, so far as we know, from without. It may be compared
to an elastic band, but there is no intermediate tangible substance to
influence bodies that are affected by it, and it remains in undying
tension, unlike all elastic material substances known, neither losing
nor acquiring energy as time passes. Unlike cohesion, or chemical
attraction, it exerts its influence upon bodies that are out of contact,
and have no material connection, and this necessitates a purely
fanciful explanation concerning the medium that conducts such
influences, bringing into existence the illogical, hypothetical, fifth
ether, made conspicuous by Aristotle."
"What of this ether?" I queried.
"It is a necessity in science, but intangible, undemonstrated,
unknown, and wholly theoretical. It is accepted as an existing fluid
by scientists, because human theory can not conceive of a substance
capable of, or explain how a substance can be capable of affecting a
separate body unless there is an intermediate medium to convey
force impressions. Hence to material substances Aristotle added (or
at least made conspicuous) a speculative ether that, he assumed,
pervades all space, and all material bodies as well, in order to
account for the passage of heat and light to and from the sun, stars,
and planets."
"Explain further," I requested.
"To conceive of such an entity we must imagine a material that is
more evanescent than any known gas, even in its most diffused
condition. It must combine the solidity of the most perfect conductor
of heat (exceeding any known body in this respect to an infinite
degree), with the transparency of an absolute vacuum. It must
neither create friction by contact with any substance, nor possess
attraction for matter; must neither possess weight (and yet carry the
force that produces weight), nor respond to the influence of any
chemical agent, or exhibit itself to any optical instrument. It must be
invisible, and yet carry the force that produces the sensation of
sight. It must be of such a nature that it can not, according to our
philosophy, affect the corpuscles of earthly substances while
permeating them without contact or friction, and yet, as a scientific
incongruity, it must act so readily on physical bodies as to convey to
the material eye the sensation of sight, and from the sun to
creatures on distant planets it must carry the heat force, thus giving
rise to the sensation of warmth. Through this medium, yet without
sensible contact with it, worlds must move, and planetary systems
revolve, cutting and piercing it in every direction, without loss of
momentum. And yet, as I have said, this ether must be in such close
contact as to convey to them the essence that warms the universe,
lights the universe, and must supply the attractive bonds that hold
the stellar worlds in position. A nothing in itself, so far as man's
senses indicate, the ether of space must be denser than iridium,
more mobile than any known liquid, and stronger than the finest
steel."
"I can not conceive of such an entity," I replied.
"No; neither can any man, for the theory is irrational, and can not be
supported by comparison with laws known to man, but the
conception is nevertheless a primary necessity in scientific study.
Can man, by any rational theory, combine a vacuum and a
substance, and create a result that is neither material nor vacuity,
neither something nor nothing, and yet an intensified all; being more
attenuated than the most perfect of known vacuums, and a
conductor better than the densest metal? This we do when we
attempt to describe the scientists' all-pervading ether of space, and
to account for its influence on matter. This hypothetical ether is, for
want of a better theory of causes, as supreme in philosophy to-day
as the alkahest of the talented old alchemist Van Helmont was in
former times, a universal spirit that exists in conception, and yet
does not exist in perception, and of which modern science knows as
little as its speculative promulgator, Aristotle, did. We who pride
ourselves on our exact science, smile at some of Aristotle's
statements in other directions, for science has disproved them, and
yet necessity forces us to accept this illogical ether speculation,
which is, perhaps, the most unreasonable of all theories. Did not this
Greek philosopher also gravely assert that the lion has but one
vertebra in his neck; that the breath of man enters the heart; that
the back of the head is empty, and that man has but eight ribs?"
"Aristotle must have been a careless observer," I said.
"Yes," he answered; "it would seem so, and science, to-day, bases
its teachings concerning the passage of all forces from planet to
planet, and sun to sun, on dicta such as I have cited, and no more
reasonable in applied experiment."
"And I have been referred to you as a conscientious scientific
teacher," I said; "why do you speak so facetiously?"
"I am well enough versed in what we call science, to have no fear of
injuring the cause by telling the truth, and you asked a direct
question. If your questions carry you farther in the direction of force
studies, accept at once, that, of the intrinsic constitution of force
itself, nothing is known. Heat, light, magnetism, electricity, galvanism
(until recently known as imponderable bodies) are now considered
as modifications of force; but, in my opinion, the time will come
when they will be known as disturbances."
"Disturbances of what?"
"I do not know precisely; but of something that lies behind them all,
perhaps creates them all, but yet is in essence unknown to men."
"Give me a clearer idea of your meaning."
"It seems impossible," he replied; "I can not find words in which to
express myself; I do not believe that forces, as we know them
(imponderable bodies), are as modern physics defines them. I am
tempted to say that, in my opinion, forces are disturbance
expressions of a something with which we are not acquainted, and
yet in which we are submerged and permeated. Aristotle's ether
perhaps. It seems to me, that, behind all material substances,
including forces, there is an unknown spirit, which, by certain
influences, may be ruffled into the exhibition of an expression, which
exhibition of temper we call a force. From this spirit these force
expressions (wavelets or disturbances) arise, and yet they may
become again quiescent, and again rest in its absorbing unity. The
water from the outlet of a calm lake flows over a gentle decline in
ripples, or quiet undulations, over the rapids in musical laughings,
over a precipice in thunder tones,—always water, each a different
phase, however, to become quiet in another lake (as ripples in this
universe may awaken to our perception, to repose again), and still
be water."
He hesitated.
"Go on," I said.
"So I sometimes have dared to dream that gravitation may be the
reservoir that conserves the energy for all mundane forces, and that
what we call modifications of force are intermediate conditions,
ripples, rapids, or cascades, in gravitation."
"Continue," I said, eagerly, as he hesitated.
He shook his head.
 CHAPTER XXIV.

THE SOLILOQUY OF PROF. DANIEL

VAUGHN.—"GRAVITATION IS THE
BEGINNING AND GRAVITATION IS THE
END: ALL EARTHLY BODIES KNEEL TO
GRAVITATION."
"Please continue, I am intensely interested; I wish that I could give
you my reasons for the desire; I can not do so, but I beg you to
continue."
"I should add," continued Vaughn, ignoring my remarks, "that we
have established rules to measure the force of gravitation, and have
estimated the decrease of attraction as we leave the surfaces of the
planets. We have made comparative estimates of the weight of the
earth and planets, and have reason to believe that the force
expression of gravitation attains a maximum at about one-sixth the
distance toward the center of the earth, then decreases, until at the
very center of our planet, matter has no weight. This, together with
the rule I repeated a few moments ago, is about all we know, or
think we know, of gravitation. Gravitation is the beginning and
gravitation is the end; all earthly bodies kneel to gravitation. I can
not imagine a Beyond, and yet gravitation," mused the rapt
philosopher, "may also be an expression of"—he hesitated again,
forgetting me completely, and leaned his shaggy head upon his
hands. I realized that his mind was lost in conjecture, and that he
was absorbed in the mysteries of the scientific immensity. Would he
speak again? I could not think of disturbing his reverie, and minutes
passed in silence. Then he slowly, softly, reverently murmured:
"Gravitation, Gravitation, thou art seemingly the one permanent,
ever present earth-bound expression of Omnipotence. Heat and light
come and go, as vapors of water condense into rain and dissolve
into vapor to return again to the atmosphere. Electricity and
magnetism appear and disappear; like summer storms they move in
diversified channels, or even turn and fly from contact with some
bodies, seemingly forbidden to appear, but thou, Gravitation, art
omnipresent and omnipotent. Thou createst motion, and yet
maintainest the equilibrium of all things mundane and celestial. An
attempt to imagine a body destitute of thy potency, would be to
bankrupt and deaden the material universe. O! Gravitation, art thou
a voice out of the Beyond, and are other forces but echoes—
tremulous reverberations that start into life to vibrate for a spell and
die in the space caverns of the universe while thou continuest
supreme?"
 "SOLILOQUY OF PROF. DANIEL VAUGHN.
'GRAVITATION IS THE BEGINNING, AND
GRAVITATION IS THE END; ALL EARTHLY
BODIES KNEEL TO GRAVITATION.'"
His bowed head and rounded shoulders stooped yet lower; he
unconsciously brushed his shaggy locks with his hand, and seemed
to confer with a familiar Being whom others could not see.
"A voice from without," he repeated; "from beyond our realm! Shall
the subtle ears of future scientists catch yet lighter echoes? Will the
brighter thoughts of more gifted men, under such furtherings as the
future may bring, perchance commune with beings who people
immensity, distance disappearing before thy ever-reaching spirit? For
with thee, who holdest the universe together, space is not space,
and there is no word expressing time. Art thou a voice that carriest
the history of the past from the past unto and into the present, and
for which there is no future, all conditions of time being as one to
thee, thy self covering all and connecting all together? Art thou,
Gravitation, a voice? If so, there must be a something farther out in
those fathomless caverns, beyond mind imaginings, from which thou
comest, for how could nothingness have formulated itself into a
voice? The suns and universe of suns about us, may be only vacant
points in the depths of an all-pervading entity in which even thyself
dost exist as a momentary echo, linked to substances ponderous,
destined to fade away in the inter-stellar expanse outside, where
disturbances disappear, and matter and gravitation together die;
where all is pure, quiescent, peaceful and dark. Gravitation,
Gravitation, imperishable Gravitation; thou seemingly art the ever-
pervading, unalterable, but yet moving spirit of a cosmos of solemn
mysteries. Art thou now, in unperceived force expressions, speaking
to dumb humanity of other universes; of suns and vortices of suns;
bringing tidings from the solar planets, or even infinitely distant star
mists, the silent unresolved nebulæ, and spreading before earth-
bound mortal minds, each instant, fresh tidings from without, that,
in ignorance, we can not read? May not beings, perhaps like
ourselves but higher in the scale of intelligence, those who people
some of the planets about us, even now beckon and try to converse
with us through thy subtle, ever-present self? And may not their
efforts at communication fail because of our ignorance of a language
they can read? Are not light and heat, electricity and magnetism
plodding, vacillating agents compared with thy steady existence, and
is it even further possible?"—
His voice had gradually lowered, and now it became inaudible; he
was oblivious to my presence, and had gone forth from his own self;
he was lost in matters celestial, and abstractedly continued