We have no objection to make to these words, spoken at such a time and before such an assembly. It would of course be easy to take the converse view, and observe that engineering would have made little progress in modern times, but for the splendid resources which the discoveries of pure science have placed at her disposal, and which she has only had to adopt and utilize for her own purposes. But there is no need to quarrel over two opposite modes of stating the same fact. There _is_ need on the other hand that the fact itself should be fairly recognized and accepted, namely, that science may be looked upon as at once the handmaid and the guide of art, art as at once the pupil and the supporter of science. In the present article we propose to give a few illustrations which will bring out and emphasize this truth. We could scarcely find a better instance than is furnished to our hand in the sentence we have chosen for a text. No man ever worked with a more single hearted devotion to pure science--with a more absolute disregard of money or fame, as compared with knowledge--than Michael Faraday. Yet future ages will perhaps judge that no stronger impulse was ever given to the progress of industrial art, or to the advancement of the material interests of mankind, than the impulse which sprang from his discoveries in electricity and magnetism. Of these discoveries we are only now beginning to reap the benefit. But we have merely to consider the position which the dynamo-electric machine already occupies in the industrial world, and the far higher position, which, as almost all admit, it is destined to occupy in the future, in order to see how much we owe to Faraday's establishment of the connection between magnetism and electricity. That is one side of the question--the debt which art owes to science. But let us look at the other side also. Does science owe nothing to art? Will any one say that we should know as much as we do concerning the theory of the dynamo-electric motor, and the laws of electro-magnetic action generally, if that motor had never risen (or fallen, as you choose to put it) to be something besides the instrument of a laboratory, or the toy of a lecture room? Only a short time since the illustrious French physicist, M. Tresca, was enumerating the various sources of loss in the transmission of power by electricity along a fixed wire, as elucidated in the careful and elaborate experiments inaugurated by M. Marcel Deprez, and subsequently continued by himself. These losses--the electrical no less than the mechanical losses--are being thoroughly and minutely examined in the hope of reducing them to the lowest limit; and this examination cannot fail to throw much light on the exact distribution of the energy imparted to a dynamo machine and the laws by which this distribution is governed. But would this examination ever have taken place--would the costly experiments which render it feasible ever have been performed--if the