The cosmogony turned out at Paris has thus proved vulnerable on a number of points; but all the blows aimed at it have not told with such deadly effect as those just referred to. Some have fallen harmlessly, or glanced aside. One hostile argument in particular, which for a time seemed irresistible, has been completely overthrown by the logic of facts, and deserves mention only as a historical curiosity. Towards the middle of the nineteenth century the progress of sidereal astronomy seemed to take the direction of showing all nebulæ indiscriminately to be of stellar composition. With Lord Rosse's great reflectors a good many such objects were genuinely, and some besides were deceptively, resolved into stars, the illusory effects being confirmed by Bond's observations with the deservedly celebrated 15-inch refractor then recently built by Merz for Harvard College. Hence the rash inference was drawn that resolution was wholly a question of optical power, and that no real distinction existed between the stellar and the nebular realms. Herschel's 'shining fluid' assumed a mythical air; 'island-universes' came into popular vogue; and all but a few careful thinkers held nebulæ and clusters to be differentiated merely by degrees of remoteness. But if space contained only full-grown stars and no stars in the making--no star-spawn, no star-protoplasm--then the imagined evolutionary history of our system was left in the air, destitute of even the most fragile prop of observed fact. From this precarious position it was rescued, partly by the cogent reasonings of Whewell and Herbert Spencer, finally and triumphantly by Sir William Huggins's spectroscopic discovery of the cosmic gas 'nebulium.' Since August, 1864, there has been no possibility of denying that the heavens contain ample stores of just the kind of material Laplace wanted, though whether it played just the part he assigned to it in the manner that he supposed is a question to be answered with profound and growing reserve.