"I can not break it." "No." "Have not I strength?" "Confine your argument now to the poker; we will consider you next. You can not break it." "I can break this pencil, though," and I snapped it in his face. "Yes." I curled my lip in disdain. "You carry this argument too far." "Why?" "I can break the pencil, I can not break the poker; had these materials not different strengths there could be no distinction; had I no strength I could not have broken either." "Are you ready to listen?" he replied. "Yes; but do not exasperate me." "I did not say that the combination you call a poker had no strength, neither did I assert that you could not break a pencil." "A distinction without a difference; you play upon words." "I said that matter, the ponderous side of material substances, has no strength." "And I say differently." He thrust the end of the poker into the fire, and soon drew it forth red-hot. "Is it as strong as before?" "No." "Heat it to whiteness and it becomes plastic." "Yes." [Illustration: Fig. 34. B B, telescoped energy spheres covered with space dirt, inclosing space between.] "Heat it still more and it changes to a liquid." "Yes." "Has liquid iron strength?" "Very little, if any." "Is it still matter?" "Yes." "Is it the material of the iron, or is it the energy called heat that qualifies the strength of the metal? It seems to me that were I in your place I would now argue that absence of heat constitutes strength," he sarcastically continued. "Go on." "Cool this red-hot poker by thrusting it into a pail of cold water, and it becomes very hard and brittle." "Yes." "Cool it slowly, and it is comparatively soft and plastic." "Yes." "The material is the same, is it not?" "Go on." "What strength has charcoal?" "Scarcely any." "Crystallize it, and the diamond results." "I did not speak of diamond." "Ah! and is not the same amount of the same material present in each, a grain of diamond and a grain of charcoal? What is present in a grain of diamond that is not present in a grain of charcoal?" "Go on." "Answer my question." "I can not." "Why does brittle, cold zinc, when heated, become first ductile, and then, at an increased temperature, become brittle again? In each case the same material is present." "I do not know; but this I do know: I am an organized being, and I have strength of body." The old man grasped the heavy iron poker with both hands, and suddenly rising to his full height, swung it about his head, then with a motion so menacing that I shrunk back into my chair and cried out in alarm, seemed about to strike, with full force, my defenseless brow. "My God," I shouted, "what have I done that you should murder me?" He lowered the weapon, and calmly asked: "Suppose that I had crushed your skull--where then would be your vaunted strength?" I made no reply, for as yet I had not recovered from the mental shock.