66z THE POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. 



payment secures admission to all lectures delivered in the Institution, 

 to the libraries) and to the weekly evening meetings, with certain 

 other privileges such as the right of admitting two friends to the 

 Friday evening meetings a privilege often abused on occasions when a 

 lion of unusual magnitude is about to roar. An inferior kind of mem- 

 ber is the annual subscriber, who enjoys most of the privileges above 

 named, with the exception of admission to the weekly meetings, from 

 which sublime gatherings he is excluded. Other persons are suffered to 

 subscribe to the afternoon lectures at the very moderate price of two 

 guineas for all courses of lectures frcm Christmas to midsummer, but 

 are not allowed to show themselves elsewhere than in the lecture 

 theatre, and never there on a Friday night. 



This weekly meeting is a wonderful combination of science and 

 society, of physics and fashion, albeit once in a while a printer or pho- 

 tographer manages to obtain permission to dilate on the excellence 

 of his wares, and to thus advertise himself. Nevertheless, in spite of 

 an occasional drawback of this kind, the Friday evening lectures are 

 of sufficiently high class to please all but a purely scientific audience. 

 It is clear that to gratify the members who are, after all, mere flesh 

 and blood, and not philosophical abstractions concessions to popular 

 taste and feeling must occasionally be made. Thus, while all may 

 equally enjoy a lecture on the " Acoustic Transparency and Opacity 

 of the Atmosphere " a subject which, in its practical relation to fog- 

 signals, is full of general interest those of a higher and drier turn of 

 mind experience ineffable delight when Prof. Sylvester holds forth on 

 the conversion of circular into parallel motion ; while the noble army 

 of simple lion-hunters rush not only to hear, but to see, Sir Samuel 

 Baker. On this particular night I find all the approaches to Albemarle 

 Street blocked by carriages, and on making my way into the Eoyal 

 Institution find the theatre fully occupied at a quarter-past eight 

 o'clock, or three-quarters of an hour before the time of the lecture. 

 With the exception of a few seats reserved for the two Boards of Man- 

 agers and Visitors, the hall is crowded to the ceiling, every avenue 

 being already jammed with a dense mass of people, among whom gay 

 opera cloaks and Angot caps largely predominate over black coats 

 and showy shirt-fronts. A lew young men are visible, but, after 

 standing about for a while, and finding it impossible to approach their 

 far friend, these youths vanish through the crowded door-way and are 

 seen no more, thus leaving the entire field clear to the British matron, 

 who prevails to-night to an extent that would have struck terror into 

 the soul of poor Nathaniel Hawthorne. There is no inconsiderable 

 amount of crowding and pushing in this elegant throng, and I am 

 forcibly reminded of the saying of a certain philosopher who has 

 seen men and cities, and the customs of them that " a well-dressed 

 crowd is a rude crowd." 



So thoroughly and completely packed is every bench, step, and 



