But then the theory of the brain-ether, or the soul as some call it, goes further. I am of opinion that the soul is not _spirit_ but _matter_; matter of such infinitely minute particles as to be perfectly invisible to even the most powerful microscope yet made. Let me explain my meaning more fully. Just as there are differences in the bulk and solidity of various materials, so is there a vast difference in the tangibility, if I may so term it, of various bodies and substances. Take a cubic foot of steel--matter beyond all doubt--and of what closely-compacted solidity and enormous density! Then take a cubic foot of smoke, that again is matter, but what immeasurable difference in density, tangibility, and even visibility there is in the two substances! Then go a step further, and imagine a cubic foot of gas: it is invisible, intangible, and possesses but little density, yet it is _matter_, it is not spirit. Now, seeing the vast difference between various matters, can we not believe that the brain, instead of being soul or spirit, may still be matter of such a rare and subtle quality that there is even more difference between it and gas, than between gas and a solid lump of steel or granite? If you can follow that suggestion you have my theory; but having spoken of my theory I go no farther. Of what my apparatus consists I have merely hinted, not mentioning one or two of its principal conditions. My secret is of such vast importance that it would go a great way to revolutionize science, history, and even religion, and I dare not divulge it to the world at large. The more I think over the matter, the more convinced I am that my experiments have so lifted the veil of death, that I have stepped within the bounds of things which should be unknown to man. I have passed the Rubicon of the supernatural! I tremble at my own temerity. I have now but one Gordian knot to sever. Shall my secret die with me, and so save the civilized world much anxiety, or shall I divulge it to a small coterie of the world’s greatest philosophers, and allow them to work upon and improve my ideas, so that they may benefit mankind, without revealing the secret power, which in profane hands would prove but a curse? For the present the secret shall remain _mine alone_, but what I may decide to do with it in the future, who knows? * * * * * It is not every day that one has an opportunity of receiving a millionaire as a guest, and to have the privilege of hypnotizing one is a still rarer thing, yet both these experiences have been mine at one and the same time, and I will relate how it happened. I was staying for a few days on the Cornish coast, and had drawn my van far on to the beach, by the side of a rivulet which, coming down from low neighbouring hills, murmured and tumbled along its rocky bed until it lost itself in the immeasurable sea.