The history of science presents us with no example of an individual mind throwing itself far in advance of its contemporaries. It is only in the career of crime and ambition that reckless man takes the start of his species, and, uncurbed by moral and religious restraint, erects an unholy dynasty upon the ruins of ancient and venerable institutions. The achievements of intellectual power, though often begun by one mind and completed by another, have ever been the results of combined exertions. Slow in their growth, they gradually approximate to a more perfect condition:—the variety in the phenomena of nature call forth a variety of intellectual gifts;—the powers of analysis and combination are applied to the humbler labours of observation and experiment, and in the ordeal of rival inquiry truth is finally purified from error. How different is it with those systems which the imagination rears,—those theories of wild import which are directed against the consciences and hopes of man. The fatal upas-tree distils its poison in the spring as well as the autumn of its growth, but the fruit which sustains life must have its bud prepared before the approach of winter, its blossom expanded in the spring, and its juices elaborated by the light and heat of the summer and the autumnal sun. In the century which preceded the birth of Newton the science of astronomy advanced with the most rapid steps. Emerging from the darkness of the middle ages, the human mind seemed to rejoice in its new-born strength, and to apply itself with elastic vigour to unfold the mechanism of the heavens. The labours of Hipparchus and Ptolemy had indeed furnished many important epochs and supplied many valuable data; but the cumbrous appendages of cycles and epicycles with which they explained the stations and retrogradations of the planets, and the vulgar prejudices which a false interpretation of Scripture had excited against a belief in the motion of the earth, rendered it difficult even for great minds to escape from the trammels of authority, and appeal to the simplicity of nature. The sovereign of Castile, the generous and noble-minded Alphonso, had long before proscribed the rude expedients of his predecessors; and when he declared that if the heavens were thus constituted, he could have given the Deity good advice, he must not only have felt the absurdity of the prevailing system, but must have obtained some foresight of a more simple arrangement. But neither he nor the astronomers whom he so liberally protected seem to have established a better system, and it was left to Copernicus to enjoy the dignity of being the restorer of astronomy.