rofessor, but in the rostrum of the ethical teacher. If I may say so,
it supplies us with an admirable illustration of a quick-change
performance. The same man performs a double part, and so adroitly is
the change managed, that the performer himself is deceived into
thinking that he is still the scientist, whereas he has become for the
moment the moral professor. But he did not acquire that new teaching
in the laboratory; he learnt it in the study.

But there is distinctly one point of close contact between science and
morality, which we must not omit to point out. Physical science,
particularly physiology, from its intimate acquaintance with the human
organism, is admirably adapted for the function of a danger-signal, so
to speak, to warn the ignorant and indifferent that a life
undisciplined and ill-regulated cannot but end in irretrievable
disaster. It thus most powerfully subserves the ends of private and
individual morality, just as historical science, which, as Professor
Huxley accurately noted, can in no wise be tested in a retort or a
crucible, can point the moral when the lawless actions of public bodies
or nations threaten the foundations upon which society rests. The
physiologist can preach a sermon of appalling severity to the drunkard;
he can describe internal and external horrors (as certain to ensue in
the victim's case, as night follows day), compared with which the
imaginings of a Dante are comparatively tame. He can likewise depict a
deplorable future of disease and decay as reserved for the vicious. He
can point to a veritable Gehenna strewn with the corpses of unnumbered
victims. He can prove to demonstration, if we listen to him, that no
organisation such as ours can resist the awful strain put upon it by
the poison of alcohol, and the enervating results of an undisciplined
existence. "Reform," he can tell us, "or go to perdition;" and most
valuable his sermon will be.

Would that men, so favourably endowed with this intimate knowledge of
the intricacy of the workings of our bodily frame, so utilised their
great powers in the service of ethics, pointing out to the reckless
transgressor what a scourge nature has in store for him, what
indescribable disasters he is preparing for himself by his audacity in
venturing to break her holy laws. In the Church which is to be, "the
Church of men to come," the scientist will fill this very _role_. As
the best interpreter of nature, he will be most