But if such results are brought about by the relative positions of the planets of our system, it is evident that the cause is more analogous to the pulling of the trigger of a cannon ready to go off than to a downright blow. In fact, a vast transformation of energy in the sun is brought about by some obscure and ill-understood but comparatively trivial cause connected with the position of the nearer planets of our system. We have here a case where the magnitude of the effect is out of all proportion to that of the antecedent; now this is, in other words, the definition of delicacy already given (Art. 179). But, again, if delicacy of construction characterise the meteorological changes in the various members of our system, it is entirely absent from the orbital motions of these bodies. These want that great characteristic of delicacy, _incalculability_; for they are not only pre-eminently calculable, but are now calculated years beforehand as part of the regular business of the world. On the other hand, the meteorological changes of our earth and of the sun come upon us with all the abruptness characteristic of delicacy, and are eminently incalculable. The hurricane and the lightning-flash are processes of Nature which man has in every age been prone to associate with personal intelligences. He has instinctively recognised the similarity between these abrupt and startling phenomena and the actions of an angry and powerful being. 185. It may no doubt be long since there has been anything like an extensive worship of the powers of nature amongst the civilised nations of the earth, but there may yet be found, even at the present day, especially amongst imaginative races, and in wild and mountainous regions, a lingering belief that personal agents are concerned in the more startling natural phenomena. Such a belief was extensively prevalent during the middle ages, and whole volumes might easily be filled with an account of mediæval superstitions and legends relating to this subject, sometimes dark and terrible, and at other times possessing a peculiar and pathetic beauty which does not belong to anything else. The air, the earth, and the water have all been peopled with spirits; some of them friendly to man, some of them his deadly enemies. They are powerful, and conscious of their power, but at the same time profoundly and mournfully aware that they are without a soul. Their life depends, it may be, upon the continuance of some natural object, and hence for them there is no immortality. Sometimes, however, an elemental spirit procures a soul by means of a loving union with one of the human race, and the beautiful romance of Undine is built upon this fancy. At other times the reverse happens, and the soul of the mortal is lost who, leaving the haunts of men, associates with these soulless but often amiable and affectionate beings. ‘The Forsaken Merman,’ by Matthew Arnold, expresses this fancy in a very beautiful and touching manner:—