LIGHT THE ETHER IN ITSELF 47 



straight course. A single disorderly point in a line 

 would cause disorder. Were there several, the ray might 

 be stopped, or turned far aside, or even back to the point 

 whence it came. But nowhere is disorder found. How 

 much this tells us of the ether, of the perfection of its 

 sameness in sensibility to force, in elasticity, in exactness 

 and accuracy of operation, in adaptation for work of 

 nicety indescribable. A variation the smallest would 

 have told. The minutest difference would have caused 

 deviation. But there is no deviation, no turning aside. 

 Every line is a wonder. It is said that a great artist, 

 calling on a brother of the craft and not finding him 

 within, drew a line which at once made known to his 

 friend, on his return, the personality of his visitor. It 

 was such a line as only one hand could draw. It had 

 that in it which belonged to one hand alone. And lines 

 of light have in them distinction incomparably higher, 

 and must belong to a mind incomparably greater. It is 

 comparatively easy to hit a mark near at hand. It 

 is much more difficult to do so afar off. Who has not 

 read with admiration of an archer cleaving a willow wand, 

 of a rifleman from a distance many times piercing a 

 centre. Clear must be the eye, steady the nerve, early 

 and long the training, firm the will, and strong the 

 directive power, that rise to the achievement of the 

 greatest triumphs. The beams of light that fall on 

 a flower of the field are, as if they were arrows from a 

 bow, pellets from a rifle, aimed from the sun, aimed 

 straight at that flower. This is cleaving the wand at 

 the distance of many millions of miles ; this is piercing 

 the centre unparalleled. Never was aiming like unto it. 

 Drawing of straight lines like these is far above the 

 power of man. A hand of indefinite length, a hand guided 

 by mind, possessing perceptive power, clear and minute 



