It is now some sixteen or seventeen years since I became acquainted with the "Philosophic Positive," the "Discours sur l'Ensemble du Positivisme," and the "Politique Positive" of Auguste Comte. I was led to study these works partly by the allusions to them in Mr. Mill's "Logic," partly by the recommendation of a distinguished theologian, and partly by the urgency of a valued friend, the late Professor Henfrey, who looked upon M. Comte's bulky volumes as a mine of wisdom, and lent them to me that I might dig and be rich. After due perusal, I found myself in a position to echo my friend's words, though I may have laid more stress on the "mine" than on the "wisdom." For I found the veins of ore few and far between, and the rock so apt to run to mud, that one incurred the risk of being intellectually smothered in the working. Still, as I was glad to acknowledge, I did come to a nugget here and there; though not, so far as my experience went, in the discussions on the philosophy of the physical sciences, but in the chapters on speculative and practical sociology. In these there was indeed much to arouse the liveliest interest in one whose boat had broken away from the old moorings, and who had been content "to lay out an anchor by the stern" until daylight should break and the fog clear. Nothing could be more interesting to a student of biology than to see the study of the biological sciences laid down, as an essential part of the prolegomena of a new view of social phenomena. Nothing could be more satisfactory to a worshipper of the severe truthfulness of science than the attempt to dispense with all beliefs, save such as could brave the light, and seek, rather than fear, criticism; while, to a lover of courage and outspokenness, nothing could be more touching than the placid announcement on the title-page of the "Discours sur l'Ensemble du Positivisme," that its author proposed "Reorganiser, sans Dieu ni roi, Par le culte systematique de l'Humanite," the shattered frame of modern society. In those days I knew my "Faust" pretty well, and, after reading this word of might, I was minded to chant the well-known stanzas of the "Geisterchor"-- "Weh! Weh! Die schoene welt. Sie stuerzt, sie zerfaellt Wir tragen Die Truemmern ins Nichts hinueber. Maechtiger Der Erdensoehne, Praechtiger, Baue sie wieder In deinem Busen baue sie auf."