divisible both of these are inconceivable, the latter for the same reason as that of the extent of space, and the former because it is inconceivable that an atom could not be divided into two parts by a stronger force than at present holds it together. It might be suggested as an explanation that if an atom could be divided it might cease to be matter, its parts would have no existence, and this is corroborated in a wonderful way by the fact that one of these vortices disappears immediately and completely if cut in two.

Another example of perception leading to a false concept is our sense of pain; we apply a red-hot coal to the tip of one of our fingers and our perception would have us believe that we feel intense pain at the point of contact, but we know this to be a false concept, as it can be shown that the pain is only felt at the brain; there are in communication with different parts of our body small microscopical nerve threads, any of which may be severed with a penknife close to the base of the skull, with the result that no pain can then be felt although the finger-tip is seen to be burning away.

Another example is our sense of hearing. A musical sound is made up of a certain number of pushes in a second, but each push is silent; it is only, as we have seen, a musical sound to our sense when the pushes recur at intervals of not more than the sixteenth part of a second. The prongs of a tuningfork vibrating five hundred times per second seem to be travelling very quickly, but are really only moving at the rate of five inches per second when the amplitude is the onehundredth part of an inch.

Light is also composed of rills in the ether, but the rill itself is not light; it is only light when these rills strike with a certain enormous frequency on a special organ adapted for it, we might say, counting those frequencies, and if these frequencies fall below a certain number, or above twice that number, per second, there is no counting, there is no sense of sight. In fact, our physical senses are only adapted for appreciating frequencies within certain limits.

Let us now turn for a moment to our conception of the supernatural. Our earliest impressions are necessarily anthropomorphic; as children we are taught that God sees what we do, therefore He must have eyes; He listens to our prayers, therefore He has ears; He is able to walk in the Garden of Eden, therefore He has legs; He calls to Adam and speaks to His prophets, therefore He has a mouth; He sits on a Throne, therefore He has a body; and He raises His right hand when

He makes a solemn declaration, therefore He has arms; He is continually mentioned as being in certain definite places, He can therefore be localised. As our knowledge increases we find that these are conventional descriptions, but the former Conception clings tenaciously, and it is very common to hear statements showing that the Deity is looked upon as a magnified man with senses, greatly improved, but still limited; it is difficult for such persons to grasp the fact that God cannot be said to be anywhere but that everywhere God is. The principal difficulty is to realise that human conception is limited by considerations of Time and Space rendering motion a necessary basis for thought, but to the Spiritual, which transcends Time and Space, the only reality is the here in Space and the now in Time, and, to such motion can have no objective reality.

As in the case of the natural, the more we gain knowledge of our surroundings the nearer and nearer we get to the appreciation of truth, so may we see in the case of the supernatural that a knowledge of God is the summum bonum of our aspirations; that alone being able to give us a true conception of the Great Reality, the very essence of that personality which is necessary for each one of us if we are to experience everlasting life. Let us then take these two mysteries of Time and Space, the for-ever and the never-ending, and see whether we can get a clearer insight into the subject before us by tracing them to the utmost limit of human conception. I will first take the subject of Space, and I think the best method I can adopt will be to take you, in imagination, for a journey as far as is possible by means of the best instruments now in use. We will start from the sun, and, moving outwards, we will rapidly mark the number and character of the worlds involved in the solar system. Let us first understand what are the dimensions of our central luminary. The distance of the moon from the earth is 240,000 miles, but the dimensions of the sun are so great, that were the centre of the sun placed where the centre of the earth is, the surface of the sun would not only extend as far as the moon, but as far again on the other side, and that would give the radius only of the enormous circumference of the sun. Let us now start outward from this vast mass. The first world we meet is the little planet Mercury, only 3,000 miles in diameter, revolving round the sun at a distance of 36,000,000 miles. We next come upon Venus, at a distance of 67,000,000 miles. She is only 400 miles smaller in diameter than our earth, and with the dense atmosphere with which she is surrounded, animal and vegetable life similar to that on our earth may be possible. Continuing

our course, we arrive at our earth, situated 95,000,000 miles away from the sun. Still speeding on, a further 50,000,000 miles brings us to Mars, with a diameter of nearly 5,000 miles, and accompanied by two miniature moons. The conditions on

this little globe are probably more like those of the earth than on any other planet, and its day is almost the same length, namely, 24 hours 39 minutes. The sight of this planet in a good instrument is most interesting. Oceans and continents are plainly visible, and the telescope shows large tracts of snow, though not necessarily water snow, surrounding its polar regions, which increase considerably during the winter, and decrease during the summer seasons on that planet.

The distances we now have to travel become so great that I shall not attempt to give them; you can, however, form an idea of the tremendous spaces we are traversing when you consider that each successive planet is nearly double as far from the sun as the preceding one.

In the place where we should expect to have found the next world we find a group of small planets ranging in size from about 200 miles in diameter down to only a few hundred yards. They pass through nearly the same point once in each of their periods of revolution, and it has been suggested that they are fragments of a great globe rent asunder by some mighty catastrophe; about 400 have been discovered and named.

We now continue our voyage over the next huge space and arrive at Jupiter, the largest and most magnificent of the planets. This world is more than 1,000 times larger than our earth, its circumference being actually greater than the distance from the earth to the moon. It has five moons, and its year is about twelve times as long as ours. Pursuing our journey, we next come to Saturn. It is nearly as large as Jupiter, and has a huge ring of planetary matter revolving round it in addition to eight moons. Further and further we go and the planets behind us are disappearing, and even the sun is dwindling down to a mere speck; still we hurry on, and at last alight on another planet, Uranus, about 60 times larger than our earth. We see moons in attendance, but they have scarcely any light to reflect. The sun is only a star now; but we must hasten on deeper and deeper into space. We shall again, as formerly, have to go as far beyond the last planet as that planet is from the sun. The mind cannot grasp these huge distances. Still we travel on to the last planet, Neptune, revolving on its lonely orbit sunk so deep into space that though it rushes round the sun at the rate of 22,000 miles per

hour, it takes 164 of our years to complete one revolution. Now let us look back from this remote point. What do we see? One planet only, Uranus, is visible to the unaided eye; the giant planets Jupiter and Saturn have disappeared, and the sun itself is only a star; no heat, no light, all is darkness in this solitary world. Thus far have we gone, and standing there at the enormous distance of 3,000,000,000 miles from our starting point, we can begin to comprehend the vast limits of the solar system; we can begin to understand the ways of this mighty family of planets and satellites. But let us not set up too small a standard whereby to measure the infinity of space. We shall find, as we go on, that this stupendous system is but an infinitesimal part of the whole universe.

Let us now look forward along the path we are to take. We are standing on the outermost part of our solar system, and there is no other planet towards which we can wing our flight, but all around are multitudes of stars, some shining with a brightness almost equal to what our sun appears to give forth at that great distance, others hardly visible, but the smallest telescope increases their number enormously, and presents to our mind the appalling phantom of immensity in all its terror standing there to withstand our next great step. How are we to continue on our journey when our very senses seem paralysed by this obstruction, and even imagination is powerless from utter loneliness? One guide only is there to help us, the messenger which flits from star to star, universe to universe; light it is which will help us to appreciate even these bottomless depths. Now, light travels 186,000 miles per second, or 11,000,000 miles every minute of time. It therefore takes only about four hours to traverse the huge distance between our sun and Neptune, where we are now supposed to be standing. But to leap across the interval which separates us from the nearest fixed star, will require a period not to be reckoned by hours or by days or by months, long years must roll away before light, travelling with its enormous velocity, can complete its journey. Let us use this to continue on our voyage. On a clear night the human eye can perceive thousands of stars in all directions, scattered without any apparent order or design; but in one locality, forming a huge ring round the heavens, there is a misty zone called the Milky Way. Let us turn a telescope with a low aperture on this, and what a sight presents itself. Instead of mist, myriads of stars are seen surrounded by nebulous haze. We put a higher aperture on, and thus pierce further and further into space; the haze is resolved into

myriads more stars, and more haze comes up from the deep beyond, showing that the visual ray was not yet strong enough to fathom the mighty distance; but let the full aperture be applied and mark the result. Mist and haze have disappeared; the telescope has pierced right through the stupendous distances, and only the vast abyss of space, boundless and unfathomable, is seen beyond. Let us pause here for a moment to think what we have done. Light, travelling with its enormous velocity, requires as a minimum average ten years to traverse the distance between our solar system and stars of the first magnitude; but the dimensions of the Milky Way are built up on such a huge scale that to traverse the whole stratum would require us to pass about 500 stars, separated from each other by this same tremendous interval; 10,000 years may therefore be computed as the time which light, travelling with its enormous velocity, would take to sweep across the whole cluster, it being borne in mind that the solar system is supposed to be located not far from the centre of this great star cluster, that the cluster comprises all stars visible arrayed in a flat zone, the edges of which, where the stratum is deepest, being the locality of the Milky Way.

Let us once more continue our journey. We have traversed a distance which even on the wings of light we could only accomplish in 10,000 years, and now stand on the outskirts of a great star cluster, in the same way, and, I hope, with the same aspirations, as when we paused a short time ago on the confines of our Solar System. Behind us are myriads of shining orbs, in such countless numbers that human thought cannot even suggest a limit, and yet each of these is a mighty globe like our sun, the centre of a planetary system, dispensing light and heat under conditions similar to what we are accustomed to here. Let us, however, turn our face away from these clusterings of mighty suns, and look steadfastly forward into the unbroken darkness, and once more brace our nerves to face that terrible phantom -immensity. We require now the most powerful instruments that science can put into our hands, and by their aid we will again essay to make another stride towards the appreciation of our subject. In what to the unaided was unbroken darkness, the telescope now enables us to discern a number of luminous points of haze, and towards one of these we continue our journey. The myriads of suns in our great star clusters are soon being left far behind; they shrink together, resolve themselves into haze, until the once glorious universe of countless millions of suns has dwindled down to a mere point of haze almost invisible