It would have been easy to have multiplied the analogies of science and religion, and especially those which, in warning us before hand of those difficulties which occur in the prosecution of science, tend to gird us with the requisite firmness and moderation in bearing up against, or in surmounting them. Few have cultivated science with success, without encountering more or less of those evils which have been so commonly opposed to the more devoted advocates of religion. So, also, some of the most useful discoveries have been the mission of men of obscure origin. Again, discoveries in science have frequently had to brave distrust, ridicule, injustice, and all kinds of opposition. It would, indeed, seem that nothing really good can in this world be attained without sacrifice; much less truth—that best of all; and he among us who is not prepared, in his search for the truths of Science, to add his mite of something that the world most values, might perhaps as well take Science as he finds it, and avoid a labour which, without sacrifice, will be almost certainly abortive. That Abernethy's idea of religion was eminently practical, is every where apparent in his reflections; yet, while he seems to have felt that "faith, without works, is dead," he unmistakeably evinces his conviction as to the foundation on which he thinks _good_ works can alone be secured. The extracts we have made, and all Abernethy's writings, appear to bear witness to a marked sincerity of character. We see that, whether he lectured at the College of Surgeons, or spoke to his pupils, who paid him for his instructions—whether he addressed the public who joined with the profession in establishing his eminent position—whether he published with his name or without it; or addressed his sentiments to his family, unheard but in the sacred precincts of home,—we find his thoughts and his language always the same. He had no dress thoughts, no company mind-clothing; he was always the same, simple, earnest, and sincere. In his very earliest papers, in his lectures at College, or in those of the Hospital, we never entirely lose sight of the golden thread to which I have before alluded. The bulk of the discourse is always the question that is really and properly before him; yet he seldom concludes the argument philosophical, without glancing (and it is in that just keeping as to be seldom more) at its ethical or its theological relations. [Footnote 79: From his Essay on Mind, and his MSS.] [Footnote 80: Études de la Nature.] [Footnote 81: St. Paul, I Cor. xv, v. 36-37.] CHAPTER XXXI. "It is the duty of Criticism neither to depreciate, nor dignify by partial representations; but to hold out the light of reason, whatever it may discover." JOHNSON.