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(Great sensation.) To the advancement of human knowledge it has been opposed: to the progress of science it has ever been a bitter foe. The pretence of the puritans is, and always has been, that they fear that science will compass the destruction of religion! Science compass the destruction of religion! It is false that they have any such fear; and if it were true, the inspiration of that fear is of itself impious. Religion derives its light from truth, even as the moon derives her lustre from the sun. It is based upon truth, and truth is eternal:

No! (continued Sylvester, when the cheering had subsided.) It is not that they fear the destruction of religion: they are apprehensive only of the destruction of that fanaticism which stands between darkness and light. It therefore behoves us, as the chosen representatives of the people, whose morality and whose happiness it is our duty to promote, it behoves us, I say, when we see this religious enthusiasm, or rather this fanaticism, thus endeavouring to creep in here, to repudiate it in limine. (Cheers.) They who are anxious to introduce it may be pure—say that they may be—I do not know that they are not; but this I know, there's nothing looks so much like a good shilling as a bad one. (Loud laughter.) Let us throw out at once this fanatical bill: let us crush this and every other attempt to circumscribe the already too limited comforts of the poor, and instead of sowing religious dissensions among the people, creating discord, and inspiring them with hatred of each other; let us legislate with a view to promote the cultivation of those kindly, beautiful, generous, philanthropic feelings which impart a zest to life, and which bind man to man."

At the conclusion of this speech, which was hailed with loud cheers, and which really was delivered with much point and energy, Sylvester at once resumed his seat; but while the members around him were crying—"Who is he?" in vain—for none could tell them—he rose and left the house.

In the morning, while at breakfast, the eye of Sylvester rested upon the speech which he himself had delivered, and which he found ascribed to "An Hon. Member." He was struck with the speech: not because it developed any extraordinary talent, but because the words employed were those which he had been in the habit of employing, while the sentences were of his own construction. No man, perhaps, ever was, or ever will be, able to pass a speech of his own unnoticed. Both in speak-