Mr. Reddie represents me as dreaming over paltry paradoxes. He is right; many of my paradoxes are paltry: he is wrong; I am wide awake to them. A single moth, beetle, or butterfly, may be a paltry thing; but when a cabinet is arranged by genus and species, we then begin to admire the { 352} infinite variety of a system constructed on a wonderful sameness of leading characteristics. And why should paradoxes be denied that collective importance, paltry as many of them may individually be, which is accorded to moths, beetles, or butterflies? Mr. Reddie himself sees that "there is a method in" my "mode of dealing with paradoxes." I hope I have atoned for the scantiness of my former article, and put the demonstrated impossibility of gravitation on that level with Hubongramillposanfy arithmetic and inhabited atoms which the demonstrator--not quite without reason--claims for it.
In the Introduction to a collected edition of the three works, Mr. Reddie describes his _Mechanism of the Heavens_, from which I have just quoted, as--
"a public challenge offered to the British Association and the mathematicians at Cambridge, in August, 1862, calling upon them to point to a single demonstration in the _Principia_ or elsewhere, which even attempts to prove that Universal Gravitation is possible, or to show that a gravitating body could possibly revolve about a center of attraction. The challenge was not accepted, and never will be. No such demonstration exists. And the public must judge for themselves as to the character of a so-called "certain science," which thus shrinks from rigid examination, and dares not defend itself when publicly attacked: also of the character of its teachers, who can be content to remain dumb under such circumstances."
The above is the commonplace talk of the class, of which I proceed to speak without more application to this paradoxer than to that. It reminds one of the funny young rascals who used, in times not yet quite forgotten, to abuse the passengers, as long as they could keep up with the { 353} stage coach; dropping off at last with "Why don't you get down and thrash us? You're afraid, you're afraid!" They will allow the public to judge for themselves, but with somewhat of the feeling of the worthy uncle in _Tom Jones_, who, though he would let young people choose for themselves, would _have them_ choose wisely. They try to be so awfully moral and so ghastly satirical that they must be answered: and they are best answered in their own division. We have all heard of the way in which sailors cat's-pawed the monkeys: they taunted the dwellers in the trees with stones, and the monkeys taunted them with cocoa-nuts in return. But these were silly dendrobats: had they belonged to the British Association they would have said--No! No! dear friends; it is not in the itinerary: if you want nuts, you must climb, as we do. The public has referred the question to Time: the procedure of this great king I venture to describe, from precedents, by an adaptation of some smart anapæstic tetrameters--your anapæst is the foot for satire to halt on, both in Greek and English--which I read about twenty years ago, and with the point of which I was much tickled. Poetasters were laughed at; but Mr. Slum, whom I employed--Mr. Charles Dickens obliged me with his address--converted the idea into that of a hit at mathematicasters, as easily as he turned the Warren acrostic into Jarley. As he observed, when I settled his little account, it is cheaper than any prose, though the broom was not stolen quite ready made: