Or perhaps some force pulls me and all objects upwards and facilitates my work? But, in such a case, how strongly it pulis! A little more—and it seems to me, I will be carried away to the ceiling.
Why don't I walk but jump? Something pulls me to the side, contrary to weight, strains the muscles, forces to make a jump.
I cannot oppose temptation—I jump. . .
It appeared to me that I was lifted slowly enough and descended just as slowly.
I jump faster and from a respectable height examine the room. . . Oh!—I hit my head against the ceiling. . . The rooms are high. . . I did not expect a collision. . . I won't be so careless anymore.
The scream, however, awakened my friend: I see, how he turned and after a moment jumped out of bed. I will not begin to describes his astonishment, similar to mine. I saw the same spectacle that I inconspicuously, several minutes ago, presented. I derive great pleasure from watching the bulged eyes, comical poses and unnatural liveliness of motions of my friend, I was amused by his strange exclamations, very similar to mine.
Permitting the reserve of surprise of my physicist friend to be exhausted, I turned to him with the request to solve for me this question; what happened—is our strength increased or is the weight decreased?
Either assumption is equally amazing, but there is nothing, on which man, becoming accustomed to it, would not begin to look indifferently. We did not reach this point, but we have already begun to have a desire to find the reason for all this.
My friend, accustomed to analysis, quickly sorted out the mass the phenomena, stunning and confusing my mind.
—By dynamometer, or by spring scales,—he said,—we can measure our muscular strength and find out whether it has increased or not. Here, I rest by legs on the wall and pull the lower hook of the dynamometer. See—five poods;
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