tain departments of thought where there are facts and phenomena to be known, and knowledge is to be extended, they are denounced as impious intruders; and we can no more say that the mind is free in its action when loaded with execration for taking this or that course, than we can say that the body is free in its movements when loaded with chains. Prof. Tyndall came to this country to lecture upon physics. He stuck strictly to his text, and raised no questions in regard to the scope of scientific inquiries. But he was not let alone. At the banquet he received before leaving us, he was lectured upon the subject of the limits of science, and in the name of religion was bidden to keep in his place, and not attempt to solve the great questions of the origin and end of the world by running his head into the mud of mere physical speculation. Those things, he was told, are not for science, but belong to philosophy and revelation. The fundamental question of the Inaugural Address was thus here publicly thrust upon him from the religious side, and he was instructed what it was proper and what it was not proper for him to do as a scientific inquirer. Both the wisdom of the instructions and the propriety of giving them were extensively indorsed by the press of the country. Prof. Tyndall was, therefore, not let alone, and left free to pursue his course as a scientific man, but his course was dictated to him by the party that does not make science its business. His critics now have their reply, and we hope it is satisfactory. That he has not minced matters, but has met the issue manfully and squarely, we think is to the credit of the side he represents.
In wholesome contrast to the time-serving lamentations above quoted, we give some passages from an editorial in Church and State, a religious newspaper, which shows a heartier appreciation of Prof. Tyndall's work: