The Professor began amidst a profound silence. He first proclaimed to his hearers the great primary axiom on which all modern thought bases itself. He told them that there was but one order of things--it was so much neater than two; and if we would be certain of anything, we must never doubt this. Thus, since countless things exist that the senses _can_ take account of, it is evident that nothing exists that the senses can _not_ take account of. The senses can take no account of God; therefore God does not exist. Men of science can only see theology in a ridiculous light, therefore theology has no side that is not ridiculous. He then told them a few of the names that enlightened thinkers had applied to the Christian deity--how Professor Tyndall had called him an 'atom-manufacturer,' and Professor Huxley a 'pedantic drill-sergeant'. The passengers at once saw how demonstrably at variance with fact was all religion, and they laughed with a sense of humour that was quite new to them. The Professor's tones then became more solemn, and, having extinguished error, he at once went on to unveil the brilliant light of truth. He showed them how, viewed by modern science, all existence is a chain, with a gas at one end and no one knows what at the other; and how Humanity is a link somewhere; but--holy and awful thought!--we can none of us tell where. 'However,' he proceeded, 'of one thing we can be quite certain; all that is, is matter; the laws of matter are eternal, and we cannot act or think without conforming to them; and if,' he said, 'we would be solemn and high, and happy, and heroic, and saintly, we have but to strive and struggle to do what we cannot for an instant avoid doing. Yes,' he exclaimed, 'as the sublime Tyndall tells us, let us struggle to attain to a deeper knowledge of matter, and a more faithful conformity to its laws!' The Professor would have proceeded, but the weather had been rapidly growing rough, and he here became violently sea-sick. 'Let us,' he exclaimed hurriedly, 'conform to the laws of matter and go below.' Nor was the advice premature. A storm arose, exceptional in its suddenness and its fury. It raged for two days without ceasing. The _Australasian_ sprang a leak; her steering gear was disabled; and it was feared she would go ashore on an island that was seen dimly through the fog to the leeward. The boats were got in readiness. A quantity of provisions and of the passengers' baggage was already stowed in the cutter; when the clouds parted, the sun came out again, and the storm subsided almost as quickly as it rose. CHAPTER IV.