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mighty river. Beginning in the remote past from small and 

 and scarcely perceptible sources, it was augmented by here a 

 streamlet, there a dewdrop, gathering strength and volume as it 

 ])rogressed in its course, and ever fed by fresh contributions. 

 Sometimes flushed by a sudden and unforeseen influx, it has rushed 

 madly on, perchance broken its bounds, overflowed its banks and 

 devastated instead of fertilising its surroundings ; at others fed 

 gradually by constant supplies, it has flowed steadily and rapidly 

 onwards, sweeping all opposition before it. Perhaps hindered by 

 rocks or obstacles, its progress may have been delayed, yet still 

 it has steadily advanced, impediments have been undermined, 

 worn away, swept away. Then again the course has been less 

 rapid, the stream has broadened and crept calmly on, making, per- 

 haps, httle perceptible progress, yet still slowly advancing and 

 fertilising the banks on either side. Again there may be rapids, 

 cataracts, dazzling by their power and brilliancy, but always pro- 

 gress, ever onward to the far ocean of Infinity — that Infinity which 

 we, with our poor finite brains, can never hope to realise. We 

 have now, after a series of brilliant and dazzling inventions, such 

 as the Telephone, the Microphone, Phonograph, &c., whicli almost 

 took away our breath by their rapid succession, arrived at one of 

 those periods, such as I spoke of, when the river of science has 

 spread out into a broad and placid stream, wider, far wider than 

 ever, for it embraces an almost infinite variety in its bed, but its 

 progress is, just now, slow and restful, and multitudinous as are 

 the streamlets of experiment and observation which are pouring 

 into it, there has of late been no wonderful or startling discovery. 

 Perhaps we may be on the eve of some brilliant discovery which 

 may sweep away half our present theories, and dazzle and be- 

 wilder us in the iridescent spray of novelty and wonder. Who can 

 say ? At present the oracle is silent. Even electric lighting, which 

 awhile ago promised to revolutionise the present age, and literally 

 to turn night into day, has made little apparent progress, and after 

 an expenditure of betAvcen five and six millions sterling, spent on 

 experiments, in little over two and half years, the present price of 

 electric stock is something like one shilling in the pound. There 

 are, nevertheless, patient toilers, working away silently and 

 laboriously to solve the practical difiiculties which alone prevent 

 its universal adoption. Then again the phonograph, by which we 

 hoped to preserve, record and reproduce the sounds and intonations 

 imprinted on its revolving cylinder, has, as yet, proved scarcely 

 more than a scientific toy, though it is true Dr. Ziutgraft', of Bonn, 

 has taken one with him to Central Africa to record the str^ge 

 guttural sounds of the native dialects. Perhaps what may prove 

 the greatest and most beneficial scientific work of the present age, 



