to that pantheistic science in which nature is as decidedly and absolutely deified as in any of the old systems of heathenism. We have now completed our comparison of faith and infidelity, and sketched the picture both of man’s mind and of his science, to and from which they respectively belong or issue. We, therefore, leave it free to the judgment of every thoughtful mind that reflects upon itself and the nature of things, and loves and desires the truth, to choose and decide between them. This comparison is ever the proper problem of philosophy; and even if the sketch and delineation of these two states of the human consciousness be, from the limits to which we are confined, not perfectly complete, still we may regard this problem as satisfactorily solved. The struggle, however, between belief and unbelief is still to go on in the world and time, but the victory of truth is reserved to higher powers and forces than man’s. As to the nature and conditions of that intellectual conflict, and its several moments, a few remarks must be added, on its relation to, and bearings on, philosophy. First of all, I think the previous remarks must have tended to throw light on a phenomenon which otherwise is remarkable and startling enough. The good cause, even when advocated by men of the best intentions and the purest zeal for truth, with the greatest acuteness and a thorough knowledge of the truth and its essential principles, nevertheless is but little successful. At the very best, it makes an extremely slow progress, while evil error advances with the fearful rapidity of contagion. To account for this singular fact it is not sufficient to appeal to the persuasive rhetoric which the latter has at its command, or to any superior power of intellect in its advocates. The cause lies rather in the miasmas of spiritual pestilence which are spread throughout, and are suspended in the moral atmosphere.