And there is a most curious resemblance in all this to John Worrell Keeley's last theory—that each individual has a dominant coefficient of vibration, which gives rise to and explains all our happy and unhappy associations in life, so that as the newspapers hastened to say, if we only knew how to find this note, scientific inquests beforehand would drive the divorce courts out of business. The music of the spheres, the thought of individuals as notes in a universal concord are very poetic, but inasmuch as music is the art of harmonic expressive vibrations manifested to sense as sound, there is, if Lord Kelvin, and some others, are right, at least as much hard scientific fact in it all as imagery. In short, the leading fact of science to-day is plainly, that Nature draws forms which outline and illustrate the underlying realities of evolutionary progress, and these forms are grasped by our sense-perceptions as endowed (by virtue of the self-persistent and destruction-resisting nature given to them by the force that causes them) with the attributes of hardness or impenetrability and mutual attraction. Differently stated, what we call matter is in no sense substance, and the attributes by which we describe it are only the effects produced upon our senses by contact with force-forms, manifesting the life in nature. So that the really substantial thing in life is seen to be form, of which so-called matter is but an incident, apparitional only, and of little reality and no substantiality whatever—a term to express the condition of manifestation. And what of all this, some one may say. The nature of atoms has only a remote interest to the problems of daily life, save as medicine may be aided by chemical research or stronger ship armor invented by the metallurgist. And as for music and poetry, they are for our entertainment when serious affairs are laid aside. To such there are two answers. First of all, a world made up of small, hard, ponderable atoms, by some unshown causes arranged in an infinite variety of forms, is a rather hopeless and uninspiring subject of research. It meets admirably the type of mind which delights in dissection, classification and labeling, but if one should be interested to know what it is all about, he might be readily pardoned for the conclusion that it is probably not about anything, and has achieved the purpose of its being in the world when it has been properly catalogued.