gateway of the British Museum, as it was to
inspect Wren's masterpiece for less than two-
pence. The Trustees provided, also, that
when any person, having obtained tickets,
was prevented from making use of them at
the appointed time, he was to send them
back to the porter, in order "that other
persons wanting to see the Museum might
not be excluded." Three hours was the
limit of the time any company might spend
in the Museum; and those who were so
unreasonable or inquisitive as to be " desirous
of visiting the Museum more than once,"
might apply for tickets whenever they
pleased, " provided that no one person had
tickets at the same time for more than one."
The names of those persons who, in the
course of their visit, wilfully transgressed any
of the rules laid down by the Trustees, were
written down in a distinct register, and the
porter was directed never to issue tickets to
them again.

Thus it will be seen that a hundred years
ago the " highly respectable " were alone
allowed to be inscribed in the visiting list of
the national institution in Great Russell-street.
The books were hoarded for the undisturbed
enjoyment of the worm, whose feast was only
at rare intervals disturbed by some student
regardless of difficulties. To the poor worn,
unheeded authors of those days, serenely
starving in garrets, assuredly the British
Museum must have been as impenetrable as
the old Bastille. The prim under-librarian
probably looked with a doubting mind upon
the name and addresses of many poor, aspiring,
honourable men—men whose " condition," to
use the phrase of the Trustees, bespoke not
the gentility of that vulgar age. In those
days the weaver and the carpenter would
as soon have contemplated a visit to St. James's
Palace as have hoped for an admission ticket
to the national Museum.

The mean precautions of the last century,
contrast happily with the enlightened liberty
of this. Crowds of all ranks and conditions
besiege the doors of the British Museum—
especially in holiday time; yet the skeleton
of the elephant is spotless—the bottled rattle-
snakes pickle in peace. The Elgin marbles
have suffered no abatement of their profuse
beauty; and the coat of the camelopard is
yet without a blemish.

The Yorkshireman has his unrestrained
stare at a sphinx; the undertaker spends his
day over the mummies, or " Egyptian parties,"
as he calls them, and no official controls his
professional objections to the coffins. The
weaver has his observation on the looms of
the olden time; the soldier compares the
Indian's blunt weapon with his keen and
deadly bayonet. The poor needlewoman has
her laugh at the rude needles of barbarous
tribes; the stonemason ventures to compare
his tombs with the sarcophagi of ancient
masters. No attendant watches every five
visitors with the cold eye of a gaoler; no bell
rings the company from one spot to another
—all is open, free.

At all events, the two pictures—that of the
British Museum a century back, and the
Museum of to-day, crowded with holiday
visitors, are in happy contrast. And what, in
all things, are we to learn from the great sum
of accomplished facts, save that in this sum we
have an earnest of coming harvests of good?

THE GREAT SOUTHERN REFLECTOR.

IN forwarding the rapid progress made of
late years by Astronomy, it is notorious that
our own country has not been slow. The
part of England has been well played by the
energy of private men, who labour at their
own expense, under the stimulus of a
perplexing climate. We are all astronomers
enough to look out of our windows, when we
find from an advertisement in the almanack
that an eclipse is to be performed by sun or
moon, and, judging by our past experience,
we feel reasonably doubtful whether we shall
see much of the performance advertised for
next July, although it does take place near
noon-day, in the height of summer. While
clouds, and mists of morning, evening, or
night, are putting out the eyes of our
astronomers, and even our clear skies are often
spoilt for them by shifting currents in the
air, their rivals on the Continent and in
America have trebled opportunities of study.
The nature of our climate, consequently, has
assisted us by stimulating private energy to
a perpetual improvement in the telescope;
and now our English telescopes are made
with a perfection not approached elsewhere.
But our most perfect telescopes have even
more blind days than humbler instruments;
the great Reflector of Lord Rosse, which has
already revealed wonders, is so sensitive to
atmospheric interference that it can be seldom
used.

What man who knows the grandeur of
those problems in astronomy, which still remain
unsolved, can fail to desire ardently that
a first-rate reflector, perfected by our
astronomers in England, should be established
in a better climate, under English rule? That
this might be done, was the joint petition of
the Royal Society and British Association to
the English Government. They proposed that
such a telescope should be sent out to the
Australian continent, where a dry climate
prevails for months, destitute of night-dews.
They offered to superintend carefully the
construction of the proposed great Southern
Reflector. But the Government politely bowed
them down-stairs. Why? If the nation be
too poor to pay money on account of stars
and telescopes, it might perhaps economise a
few pounds out of its expense on stars and
garters. To buy a telescope would be no
mighty drain upon the public purse. Or does
our Government object to the few hundred