to cast aside classical illusions, and to engage in a work which not only gives mental satisfaction but is also practically useful to all our fellow-creatures.[1] [1] Chemistry, like every other science, is at once a means and an end. It is a means of attaining certain practical results. Thus, by its assistance, the obtaining of matter in its various forms is facilitated; it shows new possibilities of availing ourselves of the forces of nature, indicates the methods of preparing many substances, points out their properties, &c. In this sense chemistry is closely connected with the work of the manufacturer and the artisan, its sphere is active, and is a means of promoting general welfare. Besides this honourable vocation, chemistry has another. With it, as with every other elaborated science, there are many lofty aspirations, the contemplation of which serves to inspire its workers and adherents. This contemplation comprises not only the principal data of the science, but also the generally-accepted deductions, and also hypotheses which refer to phenomena as yet but imperfectly known. In this latter sense scientific contemplation varies much with times and persons, it bears the stamp of creative power, and embraces the highest forms of scientific progress. In that pure enjoyment experienced on approaching to the ideal, in that eagerness to draw aside the veil from the hidden truth, and even in that discord which exists between the various workers, we ought to see the surest pledges of further scientific progress. Science thus advances, discovering new truths, and at the same time obtaining practical results. The edifice of science not only requires material, but also a plan, and necessitates the work of preparing the materials, putting them together, working out the plans and the symmetrical proportions of the various parts. To conceive, understand, and grasp the whole symmetry of the scientific edifice, including its unfinished portions, is equivalent to tasting that enjoyment only conveyed by the highest forms of beauty and truth. Without the material, the plan alone is but a castle in the air--a mere possibility; whilst the material without a plan is but useless matter. All depends on the concordance of the materials with the plan and execution, and the general harmony thereby attained. In the work of science, the artisan, architect, and creator are very often one and the same individual; but sometimes, as in other walks of life, there is a difference between them; sometimes the plan is preconceived, sometimes it follows the preparation and accumulation of the raw material. Free access to the edifice of science is not only allowed to those who devised the plan, worked out the detailed