66 
PROCEEDINGS OP THE PERTHSHIRE SOCIETY OP NATURAL SCIENCE. 
most remarkable phenomena of our day. So rapid, in¬ 
deed, has been that progress and diffusion of knowledge, 
that it is somewhat hard for a middle-aged person to 
realise the state of matters which existed in our midst 
only some 20 or 30 years ago. Many new lines of investi¬ 
gation have been instituted: I might almost say that even 
new sciences have budded and developed into great trees, 
with widespreading roots and branches, within that short 
space of time. The old things are fast passing away, and 
it is well it should be so, although I am conservative 
enough to believe that some of these old things have been 
too readily flung aside, and that by and by it will be found 
necessary to seek them out again, in order to restore them 
to a place of honour in our schemes and systems of know¬ 
ledge. 
If you wish to get an adequate notion of the changes which 
have supervened in the study of Natural Science within 
comparatively few years, you would do well to visit one of 
those local museums, which are still to be met with in 
regions upon which the newer lights of science have not 
yet shone. In such a collection you shall find an odd 
mixture of curiosities of all kinds—natural and artificial. 
In one place you observe cases of birds,—many of them 
perched in impossible attitudes upon unknown trees,—or a 
motley array of stuffed skins of mammals, which often 
bear as much resemblance to the animals whose hides they 
are, as the red lions and blue bears of the publican’s sign¬ 
board do to their supposed prototypes. Then, you shall 
encounter compartments filled with shells, native and 
foreign,—marine, freshwater, and land-species often enough 
commingled,— which have evidently been collected and 
preserved for their beauty, or it may be for their bizarre 
appearance. Fossils and minerals are seldom quite forgot¬ 
ten,—the showiest specimens coming well into view, and 
the dingier and less striking ones being relegated to obscure 
corners. But the most highly-prized gems of the collec¬ 
tion, to which the curator will hardly fail to draw your 
attention, are the complete dress of a Bed Indian war- 
chief, a New Zealander’s club, a mandarin’s dress-coat, an 
Egyptian mummy, and perhaps a two-headed puppy-dog. 
Such a collection, I think, is somewhat typical, and repre¬ 
sents well enough the kind of notions of Natural Science 
which were entertained generally some 30 or 40 years ago 
by most intelligent people, save the few who had specially 
devoted themselves to Natural Science pursuits. Museums 
were considered mere receptacles for every kind of curio 
and oddity,—places of amusement seldom visited by the 
townsfolk themselves, but resolutely gaped through by 
droves of rustic lads and lasses on fair-days and other 
high festivals. Now visit any one of the Natural History 
Museums in oUr larger cities, and what a contrast do we 
encounter. In such museums we are taught while we ad¬ 
mire, and even the most ignorant of us begins to perceive 
something of the wonderful adaptations and harmonies of 
Nature. We get glimpses of the life-histories of great 
groups and classes of animals and plants, and learn that 
all the myriad hosts of living things have been fashioned 
by the Creator according to definite types,—for the study 
of which we may find ample materials in the fauna and 
flora of our own district. 
I have spoken of this contrast between the museums of 
the past and present, not to evoke a smile of superiority 
on our part at the expense of our worthy fathers and 
grandfathers, but because I believe that the crude notions 
which gave birth and being to the museums of the past are 
still widely diffused amongst us, and that, if they do not 
crystallize out in the quaint form I have described, they 
nevertheless tend to leaven public opinion on the subject 
of Natural Science studies. The founders of our old mu¬ 
seums were embued with the laudable belief, that it was 
well that we should know more of Nature and Nature’s 
productions than was to be gathered in our every-day 
walks at home. And the collections they formed did good 
service by enabling us to realize, in however small a de¬ 
gree, some of the all-important facts relating to the geo¬ 
graphical distribution of animals and plants. It was 
something to have seen and handled shells and corals 
which had been picked up on the coasts of remote islands 
in the Pacific Ocean,—something to have learned that the 
common forms of our own shores differed so much from 
those of more distant regions. Indeed, to a well-informed 
naturalist, some of those ancient dusty collections are not 
without a certain subtle charm. The striking contrasts 
which the contents of each case present, will often suggest 
many and diverse topics of reflection, and set him musing 
on some of the most interesting results and enchanting 
generalizations which have been obtained by the combined 
labours of generations of naturalists. For the moment, a 
kind of spell is upon the studious observer,—evoking oc¬ 
cult musings and reflections, like those wonderful chords 
and snatches of weird melody which a harp gives out at 
the touch of wandering winds. But this, I need hardly 
say, was not the educative result contemplated by the 
founders of our old museums. These worthy men were, 
as a rule, mere collectors of curiosities, for which they 
hunted everywhere. Hence all was fish that came into 
their net,—it being sufficient if the object secured had 
rarity to commend it. In their opinion, therefore, the 
chief occupation and aim of a naturalist was the collection 
of rare specimens. The common plants and animals of a 
