the ether may be the one element out of which all other elements
come.

Chemistry tells us that there are between sixty and seventy ultimate
elements. This is true at least as a basis for chemical science.
Chemical analysis has never been able to make gold anything but gold, or
oxygen anything but oxygen, and so on through the whole catalogue of
elements. It may be, however, that the play of forces under and beyond
those that seem to be active in all chemical processes and relations,
are able to produce certain affections of the ether, the result of which
in the one case is an atom of gold and in the other an atom of oxygen,
etc., to the end of the list. In this case all of the so-called elements
may have their origin in one fundamental element that we call the ether.
I am aware that we are wading in deep water here, but sometimes we love
to get into deep water just to try our swimming powers. The above is a
suggestion of a theory called "the vortex theory," that is taking root
in the minds of many philosophers to-day, and yet there is almost
nothing of known facts to base such a theory upon, and nearly all we can
say about it is that it seems plausible, when viewed through the eye of
imagination.

We do know that substances, such as fluids or gases, assume very
different qualities when put into different rates of motion. A straw has
been known to penetrate the body of a tree endwise by the extreme
velocity imparted to it when carried in the vortex of a tornado.
Instances of the terrific solid power of substances that are mobile when
at rest are often exhibited during the progress of a tornado, especially
when confined in very narrow limits. Sometimes a tornado cloud will form
a hanging cone, running down to a sharp point at the lower end, which
lower end may drag on the ground, or it may float a little distance
above the ground, but more frequently it moves forward with a bounding
motion, now touching the earth and now rising in the air. This cone is
revolving at a terrific speed. The substance revolving is chiefly air,
carrying other light substances that it has gathered up from the ground.
If it comes in contact with a tree or building it cuts its way through
as though it were a buzzsaw revolving at a high rate of speed. This is
not simply the force of wind, but a kind of solidity given to the fluent
air by its whirling motion.

I remember a case in Iowa, where one of these revolving cones passed
through a barnya