Ireland, of the Scottish Highlands is dying before our eyes. The most
popular book in the English tongue at the present time, except the
Bible, is one of Dickens' works, his _Pickwick Papers_. It is largely
written in the language of London street-life; and experts assure us
that in fifty years it will be unintelligible to the average English
reader.

Then Paul goes farther, and with even greater boldness adds, "Whether
there be _knowledge_, it shall be done away." The wisdom of the
ancients, where is it? It is wholly gone. A schoolboy to-day knows
more than Sir Isaac Newton knew; his knowledge has vanished away. You
put yesterday's newspaper in the fire: its knowledge has vanished
away. You buy the old editions of the great encyclopædias for a few
cents: their knowledge has vanished away. Look how the coach has been
superseded by the use of steam. Look how electricity has superseded
that, and swept a hundred almost new inventions into oblivion. One of
the greatest living authorities, Sir William Thompson, said in
Scotland, at a meeting at which I was present, "The steam-engine is
passing away." "Whether there be knowledge, it shall vanish away." At
every workshop you will see, in the back yard, a heap of old iron, a
few wheels, a few levers, a few cranks, broken and eaten with rust.
Twenty years ago that was the pride of the city. Men flocked in from
the country to see the great invention; now it is superseded, its day
is done. And all the boasted science and philosophy of this day will
soon be old.

In my time, in the university of Edinburgh, the greatest figure in the
faculty was Sir James Simpson, the discoverer of chloroform. Recently
his successor and nephew, Professor Simpson, was asked by the
librarian of the University to go to the library and pick out the