to men who have long lost that skill which they wonder at in their children; that knowingness of touch and handling which gave them once so much power over what I fear to call inanimate nature. A problem which the child gives up as hopeless of solution, is seldom attacked again in maturer years; he drives his desire for knowledge into the obscure lumber-closets of his mind, and there it lies, with the accumulating dust of his life, a neglected and almost forgotten instinct. Some of you may think that this instinct only remains with those minds so many of which are childish even to the limit of life's span; and probably none of you have had the opportunity of seeing how the old dust rubs off from the life of the ordinary man, and the old desire comes back to him to understand the mysteries that surround him.

But I have not only felt this desire myself, I have seen it in the excited eyes of the crowd of people who stand by the hour under the dropping cherry-blossoms beside the red-pillared temple of

Asakusa in the Eastern capital of Japan, watching the tedzu-mashi directing the evolutions of his heavily rimmed Koma. First he throws away from him his great top obliquely into the air and catches it spinning on the end of a stick, or the point of a sword, or any other convenient implement; he now sends it about quite carelessly, catching it as it comes back to him from all sorts of directions; he makes it run up the hand-rail of a staircase into a house by the door and out again by the window; he makes it travel up a great corkscrew. Now he seizes it in his hands, and with a few dexterous twists gives it a new stock of spinning energy. He makes it travel along a stretched string or the edge of a sword; he does all sorts of other curious things with his tops, and suddenly sinks from his masterful position to beg for a few coppers at the end of his performance.

How tame all this must seem to you who more than half forget your childish initiation into the mysteries of nature; but trust me, if I could only make that old top-spinner perform those magical operations of his on this platform, the delight of the enjoyment of beautiful motion would come back. Perhaps it is only in Japan that such an exhibition is possible; the land where the waving bamboo, and the circling hawk, and the undulating summer sea, and every beautiful motion of nature

are looked upon with tenderness; and perhaps it is from Japan that we shall learn the development of our childish enthusiasm.

The devotees of the new emotional art of beautiful motion and changing colour are still in the main beggars like Homer, and they live in garrets like Johnson and Savage; but the dawn of a new era is heralded, or rather the dawn has already come, for Sir William Thomson's achievements in the study of spinning tops rank already as by no means the meanest of his great career.

If you will only think of it, the behaviour of the commonest spinning top is very wonderful. When not spinning you see that it falls down at once, I find it impossible to balance it on its peg; but what a very different object it is when spinning; you see that it not only does not fall down, it offers a strange resistance when I strike it, and actually lifts itself more and more to an upright position. Once started on scientific observation, nature gives us facts of an analogous kind in great plenty.

Those of you who have observed a rapidly moving heavy belt or rope, know that rapid motion gives a peculiar quasi-rigidity to flexible and even to fluid things.

Here, for example, is a disc of quite thin paper (Fig. 1), and when I set it in rapid rotation you observe that it resists the force exerted by my

hand, the blow of my fist, as if it were a disc of steel. Hear how it resounds when I strike it with a stick. Where has its flexibility gone?

Fig. 1.

Here again is a ring of chain which is quite flexible. It seems ridiculous to imagine that this

could be made to stand up like a stiff hoop, and yet you observe that when I give it a rapid rotation on this mandril and let it slide off upon the table, it runs over the table just as if it were a rigid ring, and when it drops on the floor it rebounds like a boy's hoop (Fig. 2).

Fig. 2.

Here again is a very soft hat, specially made for this sort of experiment. You will note that it collapses to the table in a shapeless mass when I lay it down, and seems quite incapable of resisting forces which tend to alter its shape. In fact, there is almost a complete absence of rigidity; but when this is spun on the end of a stick, first note

how it has taken a very easily defined shape; secondly, note how it runs along the table as if it were made of steel; thirdly, note how all at once it collapses again into a shapeless heap of soft material when its rapid motion has ceased. Even so you will see that when a drunken man is not leaning against a wall or lamp-post, he feels that his only chance of escape from ignominious collapse is to get up a decent rate of speed, to obtain a quasi-sobriety of demeanour by rapidity of motion.

The water inside this glass vessel (Fig. 3) is in a state of rapid motion, revolving with the vessel itself. Now observe the piece of paraffin wax A immersed in the water, and you will see when I push at it with a rod that it vibrates just as if it were surrounded with a thick jelly. Let us now apply Prof. Fitzgerald's improvement on this experiment of Sir William Thomson's. Here is a disc B stuck on the end of the rod; observe that when I introduce it, although it does not touch A, A is repelled from the disc. Now observe that when I twirl the disc it seems to attract A.

Fig. 3.^[3]

At the round hole in front of this box a rapid motion is given to a small quantity of air which is mixed with smoke that you may see it. That smoke-ring moves through the air almost like a solid body for a considerable distance unchanged, and I am not sure that it may not be possible yet

to send as a projectile a huge poisoned smoke-ring, so that it may destroy or stupefy an army miles away. Remember that it is really the same air all the time. You will observe that two smoke rings sent from two boxes have curious actions

upon one another, and the study of these actions has given rise to Thomson's smoke-ring or vortex theory of the constitution of matter (Fig. 4).

Fig. 4.

It was Rankine, the great guide