tracts to half its length. No, you cannot convince me I am wrong; I am not afraid of a yard-measure. Bring one and measure my arm; first horizontally, the result is 30 inches; now vertically, the result is 30—half-inches! Because you must remember that you have turned the scale into the line of the earth's motion so that each inch-division contracts to half an inch. 'But we can see that your arm does not contract. Are we not to trust our eyes?' Certainly not, unless you first correct your visual impressions for the contraction of the retina in the vertical direction, and for the effect of our rapid motion on the apparent direction of propagation of the waves of light. You will find, when you calculate these corrections, that they just conceal the contraction. 'But if the contraction takes place, ought one not to feel it happening to the arm?' Not necessarily; I am an observer on the earth, and my feelings like other sense-impressions belong to the geocentric outlook on nature, which Copernicus has persuaded us to abandon.
Take a pair of compasses and twiddle them on a sheet of paper. Is the resulting curve a circle or an ellipse? Copernicus from his standpoint on the sun declares that owing to the FitzGerald contraction the two points drew nearer together when turned in the direction of the earth's orbital motion; hence the curve is flattened into an ellipse. But here I think Ptolemy has a right to be heard; he points out that from the beginning of geometry circles have always been drawn with compasses in this way, and that when the word 'circle' is mentioned every intelligent person understands that this is the curve meant. The same pencil line is in fact a circle in the space of the terrestrial observer and an ellipse in the space of a solar observer. It is at the same time a moving ellipse and a stationary circle. I think that
