Then, there is another point about these candles which will answer a
question,--that is, as to the way in which this fluid gets out of the cup,
up the wick, and into the place of combustion. You know that the flames on
these burning wicks in candles made of beeswax, stearin, or spermaceti, do
not run down to the wax or other matter, and melt it all away, but keep to
their own right place. They are fenced off from the fluid below, and do
not encroach on the cup at the sides. I cannot imagine a more beautiful
example than the condition of adjustment under which a candle makes one
part subserve to the other to the very end of its action. A combustible
thing like that, burning away gradually, never being intruded upon by the
flame, is a very beautiful sight; especially when you come to learn what a
vigorous thing flame is--what power it has of destroying the wax itself
when it gets hold of it, and of disturbing its proper form if it come only
too near.

But how does the flame get hold of the fuel? There is a beautiful point
about that--_capillary attraction_[4]. "Capillary attraction!" you
say,--"the attraction of hairs." Well, never mind the name: it was given
in old times, before we had a good understanding of what the real power
was. It is by what is called capillary attraction that the fuel is
conveyed to the part where combustion goes on, and is deposited there, not
in a careless way, but very beautifully in the very midst of the centre of
action which takes place around it. Now, I am going to give you one or two
instances of capillary attraction. It is that kind of action or attraction
which makes two things that do not dissolve in each other still hold
together. When you wash your hands, you wet them thoroughly; you take a
little soap to make the adhesion better, and you find your hand remains
wet. This is by that kind of attraction of which I am about to speak. And,
what is more, if your hands are not soiled (as they almost always are by