addition to our buildings, and a great increase in our annual income, must be provided, before we can carry out our wishes to any considerable extent. The same remarks are applicable to all other parts of our work, either in actual progress, or in contemplation. We are cramped in every direction by the want of money.

In the department of geology, we have a large number of valuable rock specimens, including a typical collection specially obtained from England, which cannot be exhibited in the Museum for want of suitable table-cases. In Zoology there are many interesting and beautiful skins of birds and other animals packed away out of sight, because we have not the means to employ a taxidermist to set them up. We have no classes in any branch of science, not because there are no persons desirous to learn, but because we have not the means and appliances necessary to carry on the work of instruction. We have no laboratory, no apparatus, no suitable theatre for lectures, and no funds to provide these necessary things.

We hope that a beginning may be made ere long by the opening of a class for the study of botany, which has the advantage of being able to dispense with costly apparatus. In fact, such a class might be formed at any time under the care of our worthy secretary, Mr. T. F. Cheeseman, F.L.S., if a moderate number of pupils would agree to meet together, say once a week, for this useful and interesting study.

In the department of art a good beginning has already been made. The splendid casts of world-renowned antique statues which now, thanks to Mr. Thomas Russell, C.M.G., adorn our museum and excite the admiration of numerous visitors, are silent instructors of all who study them with open eyes; while special instruction is freely provided for those who, having the necessary natural gifts, desire to cultivate the limner's art. The classes established by the kindly thoughtfulness and liberality of our friend Dr. Campbell, under the charge of Mr. Kennett Watkin, are in full work, and making fair progress. The number of students of both sexes at present on the list is, I believe, 31.

I have thus endeavoured to point out the actual present condition of our Institute, and the desiderata yet to be supplied before we can fully achieve the purpose for which we have associated ourselves. The question, How are we to obtain the necessary means? is one which I am not able fully to answer. There are but two sources to which we can look, public grants and private munificence. Both of these have helped us in the past; to both must we look in the future; nor do I think that we shall be disappointed. Of private generosity we have already had noble instances, and we will not doubt that others as noble are yet to come. Nor will we believe that our statesmen will withhold due assistance from the public funds, when they consider the importance of the cultivation of science, literature, and art, to the welfare of the people whose funds they administer. It is true that elementary instruction must ever occupy the first place in the liberal statesman's thoughts. The key of knowledge should be put into the hands of all. But when we refer to schools of a higher class than the primary, it is impossible to ignore the claims of science to be included in the curriculum of instruction. Some eminent men contend that all children should be taught the elements of science. The German scientist Haeckel claims that the Darwinian theory of evolution should be made the basis on which State education should rest, but in this he is strongly opposed by his friend and former teacher Kirchow. The latter has, I think, clearly shown that Haeckel has taken up untenable ground. All will agree that truth is the one object of real scientific research, but there is need of caution lest we lose sight of the distinction between the certain knowledge of ascertained facts, which is rightly called science, and the exercise of the scientific imagination in hypothetical

deductions or theories. Theories are often, indeed, of the greatest service; but they are not to be made into dogmas. We may avail ourselves even of an erroneous theory (as, for instance, that of two opposite kinds of fluid in electricity) without suffering any great harm, if we hold ourselves ready to abandon it when found to be erroneous. A theory is not an object of faith, but a subject for discussion. In every part of the domain of science the facts which have been ascertained are of the first importance, and form the basis of all true teaching. But a knowledge of the general laws deduced from these facts, and established, as we may say, by consent of all who are capable of forming a correct judgment concerning them, must necessarily be communicated to the learner, and the more our knowledge of facts is increased and extended, the wider will our view become, and the better shall we be able to grasp the general law by which the phenomena may be comprehended. The student may be compared to a traveller exploring an island having a mountain in the centre, from the top of which a full general view can be obtained of the whole, and a correct idea can be formed of its shape and features. The higher he climbs the more he can see; and though with much labour he may gain the summit, his view will still be limited by the horizon, and even within the narrow bounds of his domain there will be a multitude of objects with which he can only become acquainted by separate examination of each distinct locality. The theory of Evolution, if it could be absolutely proved to be true, would give us such a general view of the progressive work of creation. But the proof has not yet been given, and perhaps may be unattainable; therefore, no one has a right to insist upon the acceptance of the theory, much less to make it (as Haeckel and his friends would force mankind to do) a sort of new religion, or, rather, a substitute for all religion. It may be that this theory is true. It certainly appears to be supported by a large number of facts of very great interest, collected from nearly every part of the field of observation; and, if proved to be true, it is to be welcomed by everyone who loves the truth. But, like the view of our island explorer, the range is still bounded by the inevitable horizon. Our theory applies only to the things of time and sense. Within these bounds all knowledge seems to point to continual progress and unceasing change. Every form of existence with which we are acquainted doubtless has a history, though we may not be able to scan it. Not only each atom and molecule,—not only every individual of the countless myriads of living things,—but every mass of heterogeneous materials, from the smallest pebble of the earth or the cosmic dust of the heavens, to the mightiest sun of the universe, has its past, present, and future, upon which we may exercise our powers of thought, and by means of various processes of observation and examination may gain some knowledge of their nature and history. The terms “new” and “old” apply to all material things. Even the vast masses of revolving matter, of which the stars consist, are subject to the apparently universal law of change of condition. Not only the planets—the comparatively insignificant attendant stars of each solar system—but the very suns themselves are growing old;—no new truth, as you will justly say, since it was familiar to an ancient poet, who thus addressed the Creator of all: “Of old hast Thou laid the foundation of the earth; and the heavens are the work of Thy hands. They shall perish, but Thou shalt endure; yea, all of them shall wax old like a garment. … . But Thou art the same, and Thy years shall have no end.”^* Of this truth, so long ago perceived and acknowledged by man, a striking illustration has been afforded by the results of recent investigations in a new branch of science, which has been called “stellar chemistry.” A few years only have elapsed since the invention of the spectroscope, but marvellous, indeed, are the revelations obtained by

means of that instrument in the hands of skilful observers. In a paper published in the Nineteenth Century for February, Mr. Norman Lockyer presents us with a portion of the results of the last ten years' work in this branch of science. From the one hundred thousand observations recorded by him, he deduces the wonderful fact, that the fixed stars may be roughly divided into four classes, distinguished by their (presumed) difference in temperature. He shows that the brightest and hottest of the stars have a spectrum, “marvellously simple,” indicating in the main only two substances, hydrogen and calcium, with faint traces of magnesium, and perhaps of sodium. Stars of the second-class are neither so bright nor, it is believed, so hot. In this class our own sun is included, though even his temperature is spoken of by Mr. Lockyer as so great as to be “beyond all definition.’ Stars of this class give a spectrum in which the indications of hydrogen are distinctly enfeebled; the evidences of the existence of calcium are increased in intensity, as are also the indications of sodium and magnesium; while the simple character of the spectrum of the first-class has been replaced by a combination of lines of “terrible complexity.” In speaking of the other two classes of suns, I will quote Mr. Lockyer's own words:—“The complexity which we meet with in passing from the first-class to the second, is one brought about by the addition of the lines produced by bodies of chemical substances of moderate atomic weight. The additional complexity observed when we pass from the second to the third, is brought about by the addition of lines due in the main to bodies of higher atomic weight, and—this is a point of the highest importance—at the third stage,” that is, in the third-class of suns, “the hydrogen, which existed in such abundance in stars of the first-class, has now entirely disappeared. In the last class of stars to which I have referred, the fourth, the lines have given place to fluted bands, at the same time that the light and colour of the stars indicate that we have almost reached the state of extinction.” Mr. Lockyer puts the same facts in simpler form, thus—

In the cooler stars the elements are found in a state of greater combination, while in the hottest they are dissociated by the intense heat, so that the older (and therefore cooler) a star has become, the less of free hydrogen will appear. On the earth the process of cooling has reached the stage in which hydrogen is no longer found in a free state. All that is here stated from Mr. Lockyer's paper, though extremely interesting in the connection in which I have introduced it, occurs in the original as part of the reasoning which leads to the conclusion that many of the substances which have hitherto been regarded as elementary are probably compounds, capable of dissociation at the transcendental temperatures which exist in the hotter kinds of stars. Thus a general law is indicated which may be expressed in these words:—The lowering of temperature in a mass of matter is accompanied by a gradually increasing complexity of chemical forms: and, of course, the converse holds good that the higher the temperature the more completely will the elements which form the chemical compounds be dissociated.

Before passing from this subject, it will not be out of place to express the opinion that we have here one of the greatest discoveries of these days, and one which opens out a new field of investigation to which it is not easy to assign a limit.

I had intended to call your attention to the remarkable progress which has lately been made in other branches of science and in the application of science to the comfort and convenience of man, but time will not permit more than a passing

allusion to the strenuous efforts of many inventors to utilize the electric light, to the wonders of the telephone, the microphone, and the phonograph, and to the improvements in telegraphy, the latest of which, by Mr. E. A. Cowper, has made it possible to send one's autograph by electricity, so that it will no longer be ridiculous to say, “I know who sent this telegram, for I recognize the hand-writing.” I can but glance at the success which has crowned the efforts of two distinguished physicists, Messrs. Cailletet and Pictet, to compress into the fluid form the so-called permanent gases, so that even hydrogen has been seen in the form of a fluid metal; or at the remarkable achievement of the masters in experimental chemistry, who have succeeded in putting together the molecules which form the colouring matter of indigo and madder; or at the penetration which has seen the cause of the irritating and cough-producing dry fog of huge cities in the condensed vapour of hydro-carbons, derived from coal smoke, by which the minute globules of water, of which the fog consists, are coated, and so kept on the one hand from readily coalescing, and, on the other, from dissolving in the air, even though the hygrometric condition of the atmosphere be reduced considerably below the point of saturation.

One cannot take up a scientific periodical without finding a record of advance in one or more of the many branches of scientific research, or of application of known facts. Many and diligent are the workers in the study of nature in the fullest meaning of the word as applied to the whole material world. Great has been the work accomplished. Great has been the gain of real knowledge of the material things by which we are surrounded, and in the midst of which we have to do our part as best we may, ever acting upon and affected by those among whom our lot is cast for the few short years of our present state of existence. Of what is to follow, and how to prepare for the great future which every man naturally looks for, science, however exalted, is, and must remain, absolutely silent. Thus far, and no farther, may she come. Here sight and hearing, speech and thought, avail no more. Science has no instruments to sound the unknown depth, to scale the unknown height, or to measure the length and breadth of the Infinite; but great is the joy, and boundless the hope of him who has learned to believe that what is denied to the bodily faculties is permitted to the living spirit, and thus, whatever his present misery may be, he endures, “as seeing Him who is invisible,” and calmly awaits the day when Love, which lives for ever, will carry him safely across the unbridged gulf and set him in the eternal home of the great Father of all.

I cannot conclude this address better than by quoting a passage by Victor Hugo which appears in the Contemporary Review for March last, as follows:—

“Let us not forget, and let us teach it to all, that there would be no dignity in life,—that it would not be worth while to live, if annihilation were to be our lot. What is it which alleviates and which sanctifies toil, which renders men strong, wise, patient, just, at once humble and aspiring, but the perpetual vision of a better world, whose light shines through the darkness of the present life? For myself, I believe profoundly in that better world; and after many struggles, much study, and numberless trials, this is the supreme conviction of my reason, as it is the supreme consolation of my soul. ^{* * *} There is a misfortune of our times, I could almost say there is but one misfortune of our times; it is a tendency to stake all on the present life. By giving to man, as a sole end and object, the material life of this world, you aggravate its every misery by the negation which awaits him at the end; you add to the burdens of the unfortunate the insupportable weight of future nothingness; and that which was only suffering, that is to say, the law ordained of God, becomes despair, the law imposed by hell. Hence