in the first place. It is only by coincidence that
lightning has struck, or that a real meteorite, which was unfindable,
has struck near objects of slag and limestone.

Mr. Hovey says that the list might be extended indefinitely. That's a
tantalizing suggestion of some very interesting stuff--

He says:

"But it is not worth while."

I'd like to know what strange, damned, excommunicated things have been
sent to museums by persons who have felt convinced that they had seen
what they may have seen, strongly enough to risk ridicule, to make up
bundles, go to express offices, and write letters. I accept that over
the door of every museum, into which such things enter, is written:

"Abandon Hope."

If a Mr. Symons mentions one instance of coal, or of slag or cinders,
said to have fallen from the sky, we are not--except by association with
the "carbonaceous" meteorites--strong in our impression that coal
sometimes falls to this earth from coal-burning super-constructions up
somewhere--

In _Comptes Rendus_, 91-197, M. Daubree tells the same story. Our
acceptance, then, is that other curators could tell this same story.
Then the phantomosity of our impression substantiates proportionately to
its multiplicity. M. Daubree says that often have strange damned things
been sent to the French museums, accompanied by assurances that they had
been seen to fall from the sky. Especially to our interest, he mentions
coal and slag.

Excluded.

Buried un-named and undated in Science's potter's field.

I do not say that the data of the damned should have the same rights as
the data of the saved. That would be justice. That would be of the
Positive Absolute, and, though the ideal of, a violation of, the very
essence of quasi-existence, wherein only to have the appearance of being
is to express a preponderance of force one way or another--or
inequilibrium, or inconsistency, or injustice.

Our acceptance is that the passing away of exclusionism is a phenomenon
of the twentieth century: that gods of the twentieth century will
sustain our notions be they ever so unwashed and frowsy. But, in our own
expressions, we are limited, by the oneness of quasiness, to the very
same methods by which orthodoxy established and maintains its now sleek,
suave preposterousnesses. At any rate, though we are inspired by an
especial subtle essence--or imponderable, I think--that pervades the
twentieth century, we have not the superstition that we are