ana, I conceive, conventionally, of heavier objects
having fallen in Alabama, say, and of the fall of still heavier objects
still nearer the origin in Florida.

The sources of information of the Weather Bureau are widespread.

It has no records of such falls.

So a dragnet that was let down from above somewhere--

Or something that I learned from the more scientific of the
investigators of psychic phenomena:

The reader begins their works with prejudice against telepathy
and everything else of psychic phenomena. The writers deny
spirit-communication, and say that the seeming data are data of "only
telepathy." Astonishing instances of seeming clairvoyance--"only
telepathy." After a while the reader finds himself agreeing that it's
only telepathy--which, at first, had been intolerable to him.

So maybe, in 1896, a super-dragnet did not sweep through this earth's
atmosphere, gathering up all the birds within its field, the meshes then
suddenly breaking--

Or that the birds of Baton Rouge were only from the Super-Sargasso Sea--

Upon which we shall have another expression. We thought we'd settled
that, and we thought we'd establish that, but nothing's ever settled,
and nothing's ever established, in a real sense, if, in a real sense,
there is nothing in quasiness.

I suppose there had been a storm somewhere, the storm in Florida,
perhaps, and many birds had been swept upward into the Super-Sargasso
Sea. It has frigid regions and it has tropical regions--that birds of
diverse species had been swept upward, into an icy region, where,
huddling together for warmth, they had died. Then, later, they had been
dislodged--meteor coming along--boat--bicycle--dragon--don't know what
did come along--something dislodged them.

So leaves of trees, carried up there in whirlwinds, staying there years,
ages, perhaps only a few months, but then falling to this earth at an
unseasonable time for dead leaves--fishes carried up there, some of them
dying and drying, some of them living in volumes of water that are in
abundance up there, or that fall sometimes in the deluges that we call
"cloudbursts."

The astronomers won't think kindly of us, and we haven't done anything
to endear ourselves to the meteorologists--but we're weak and mawkish
Intermediatists--several times we've tried to get the aeronauts with
us--extraordinary things up there: things that curators of museums would
give up all hope of ever being fixed stars, to obtain: