Forces Take the Easiest Paths.
When one drop of rain meets another, and they join themselves to thousands more on the crest of a hill, they need no guide posts to show them the easiest course to the valley. They simply take it under the quiet pull of gravity. When a bolt of lightning darts across the sky, its lines, chaotic as they seem, are just the paths where the electric pulses find least obstruction. If a volcano, which has boiled and throbbed for ages, at last opens a chasm on a hapless shore, as that of Martinique, we may be sure that at that point and nowhere else the mighty caldron’s lid was lightest. A cavern in Kentucky, or Virginia, slowly broadening and deepening through uncounted rills which dissolve its limy walls, comes at last to utter collapse: the breach marking exactly where an ounce too much pressed the roof at its frailest seam. In these cases as in all others, however complex, matter moves inevitably in the path of least resistance. To imitate that economy of effort is from first to last the inventor’s task.