regarded as final, and it appears unreasonable for either priest or scientist to resent as an outcome of controversial differences an issue favourable to his opponent, since only in the event of a subsequent endorsement of its intrinsic truth by inclusion in the commonly accepted facts of natural knowledge can the ruling of the judgment remain in force. Therefore, since the avowed object of both disputants is the elucidation of Truth, which process necessitates a concomitant elimination of Falsehood, neither priest nor scientist should resent such a satisfactory outcome of their contentions. For if the results of controversial criticism be not endorsed by the course of time, but are shown instead to be errors of judgment, rectifiable by succeeding generations of men whose advance in power of discernment is attested by the ability to eradicate from doctrine errors hitherto undemonstrable as such, the justification of controversy is even so sufficiently proven, inasmuch as its employment has brought about an expurgation of Falsehood, which accomplishment is, in the dual interests of Science and Religion, as important as the affirmation and confirmation of Truth.

A retrospective view of religious and scientific doctrine does indeed reveal controversy, accompanied by criticism, as a considerable factor in the evolution of knowledge, and its employment is clearly recognisable as a means of expurgating much that was false in ideas held in former days. It is reasonable to suppose that the same drastic spirit of controversial criticism so apparent in the past and so active in the present, will continue to operate in the future. But an examination of the controversial methods exercised to-day shows a remarkable change of tactics from those in use, say two hundred years ago—a change that is the direct result of the displacement of ancient weapons of war by modern arms. Evidence has supplanted the use of subtle verbal argument and carefully constructed syllogisms, whose premises were frequently contrived to corroborate foregone conclusions—a method not compatible with that earnest desire for truth above all things which is the war-cry of modern times. Evidence is everywhere proclaimed as the proper test for truth; and he who enters the field of controversy to-day, whether he be the champion of scientific or of religious doctrine, must, if he wish to obtain a serious hearing, come equipped with evidence of the truth of what he propounds, and with evidence of the falsehood of what he refutes.

This change in the method of controversial criticism affects all branches of learning, and is gradually bringing about a reform in educational matters that bids fair to shake the foundations of many lines of long-established conventional thought. Nowhere is the change more apparent than in the working of our schools. A child is no longer punished for asking the reason of what he is taught; lessons learnt by rote are a disgrace alike to schoolmaster and scholar. It is not the pupil who is impertinent in demanding, but the teacher who is inefficient and culpable if he cannot supply satisfactory evidence of the truth, the reality, the reason of his instruction. The kindergarten system; the elaborate construction of object-lessons contrived by means of illustration to exercise the child's reasoning faculties; the nature study, so swiftly establishing its place in the national curricula—all these are the outcome of the demand for evidence as the proper test of supposed truth, and are significant of the spirit of the age. Young people are encouraged to think for themselves; to accept authority only when there is evidence forthcoming of its right to be so acknowledged; to look for evidential testimony of all that they are called upon to receive as facts.

Upon the subject of education, Science and Ecclesiasticism are now engaged in what, seen in the light of after days, may well appear as one of the most important controversies of the age. And it is upon the very question of the fitness of evidence as a legitimate test of truth, especially with regard to the suitability of its application to religious as well as to secular instruction, that the chief difference turns. While Science, convinced of the efficacy of evidential testimony, employs the principle as a weapon of attack and defence in controversial warfare, the ambiguous attitude of Ecclesiasticism towards a similar mode of procedure places her at a hopeless disadvantage against her antagonists, deprives her of influence in most matters of intellectual importance, and stamps her as a deterring factor in the progress of the world. What fighting power, equipped with obsolete weapons of the eighteenth century, would be justified in hoping to meet with success in an engagement with a foe who carried modern arms?

If children are taught to regard evidence as a proper test of truth in matters of secular interest, and to disregard that principle in connection with their religious instruction, it follows as a matter of course that a line of distinction must be drawn between secular and religious education. It is regrettable that, interwoven as the two elements have been for centuries in the training of children, their division now seems necessary and imminent. Had they continued to work harmoniously together, the present differences between scientific and ecclesiastical methods of instruction might have been averted. But it is lamentably evident that in adopting an attitude of disapproval towards criticism of her articles, the Church is bringing about a division in educational matters that is becoming more and more pronounced. What kingdom divided against itself can stand? How can we expect to train our children in the ways of Truth if we give them no consistent standard for estimating what is true? How dare we hope to rear a generation worthy of its inheritance of nearly twenty centuries of established Christianity, when we formulate a religious standard of integrity in opposition to that of the secular knowledge of the world?

But it is not only over the Education Question that Science and Ecclesiasticism are virtually at war, although the conflicting principles underlying this controversial difference are illustrated by that dispute. It is not only children who suffer bewilderment by being asked to reconcile irreconcilable elements in their education. Both Science and the Catholic Church profess to be searchers after and upholders of Truth, yet year by year a chasm between them widens as their fundamental differences in procedure become defined; and year by year the number of honest thinkers who cease to regard themselves as members of the Church, or as under her authority, increases. So long as Ecclesiasticism continues to maintain an attitude of resentment towards criticism of religious doctrine, so long must this exodus of intelligence from the Church induce a practical development of the Christian ideals outside ecclesiastical circles.

It cannot be too vigorously affirmed that criticism of the pretensions of Ecclesiasticism is not necessarily an attack upon Christianity. Scientific research has never harmed or demolished the truth in doctrine attributed to Christ. Indeed, the simplicity and beauty of His teaching (in so far as this can be ascertained from a careful study of the Gospels) never shines so convincingly, and never exerts greater influence for good upon mankind, than when, under rational criticism, it is freed in some measure from the accumulation of centuries of superstitious ideas too long supported by the approval of Ecclesiasticism. Science has no quarrel with Christianity as such. A Christian Church,