Chapter III.
The Philosopher, with aching head, sat down to write, and penned these words,—
"Cosmical space is filled with meteorites of all sizes, flying about with immense velocities in all directions."
"Good Heavens! or, rather, Bad Heavens!" exclaimed a simple-minded visitor, to whom he read this statement, "why, 'Cosmical space' must be uncommonly like a proclaimed district in Ireland, or Trafalgar Square during a Socialist riot."
The Philosopher perceived that he was not in the presence of a sympathetic mind, and regretted having invited the visitor to lunch.