m--then attracting public attention--was duly lauded, the possibly
greater discovery of the quadrature seemed to be blushing unseen, and
wasting etc. It went on as follows:

"Prof. De Morgan, who, from his position in the scientific world, might
fairly afford to look favourably on less practised efforts than his own,
seems to delight in ridiculing the discoverer. Science is, of course, a
very respectable person when he comes out and makes himself useful in the
world [it must have been a lady; each sex gives science to the other]: but
when, like a monk of the Middle Ages, he shuts himself up [it must have
been a lady; they always snub the bachelors] in his cloistered cell,
repeating his mumpsimus from day to day, and despising the labourers on the
outside, we begin to think of Galileo,[624] Jenner,[625] Harvey,[626] and
other glorious trios, who have been contemned ..."

The writer then called upon Mr. James Smith[627] to come {337} forward. The
irony was not seen; and that day fortnight appeared the first of more than
thirty letters from his pen. Mr. Smith was followed by Mr. Reddie,[628]
Zadkiel,[629] and others, on their several subjects. To some of the letters
I have referred; to others I shall come. The _Correspondent_ was to become
a first-class scientific journal; the time had arrived at which truth had
an organ: and I received formal notice that I could not stifle it by
silence, nor convert it into falsehood by ridicule. When my reader sees my
extracts, he will readily believe my declaration that I should have been
the last to stifle a publication which was every week what James Mill[630]
would call a dose of capital for my Budget. A few anti-paradoxers brought
in common sense: but to the mass of the readers of the journal it all
seemed to be the difference between Tweedledum and Tweedledee. Some said
that the influx of scientific paradoxes killed the journal: but my belief
is that they made it last longer than it otherwise would have done. Twenty
years ago I recommended the paradoxers to combine and publish their views
in a common journal: with a catholic editor, who had no pet theory, but a
stern determination not to exclude anything merely for absurdity. I suspect
it would answer very well. A strong title, or motto, would be wanted: not
so coarse as was roared out in a Cambridge mob when I was an
undergraduate--"No King! No Church! No House of Lords! No nothing, blast
me!"--but something on that _principle_.