or, came to the institution in a
subordinate capacity as a mere boy, and was the life of the institution
for half a century. Tyndall gave it forty years of service. What wonder,
then, that the Briton speaks of the institution as the "Pantheon of
Science"?

If you visit the Royal Institution to-day you will find it in most
exterior respects not unlike what it presumably was a century ago. Its
long, stone front, dinged with age, with its somewhat Pantheon-like
colonnade, has an appearance of dignity rather than of striking
impressiveness. The main entrance, jutting full on the sidewalk, is at
the street level, and the glass door gives hospitable glimpses of the
interior. Entering, one finds himself in a main central hall, at the
foot of the main central staircase. The air of eminent respectability
so characteristic of the British institution is over all; likewise
the pervasive hush of British reserve. But you will not miss also the
atmosphere of sincere if uneffusive British courtesy.

At your right, as you mount the stairway, is a large statue of Faraday;
on the wall right ahead is a bronze medallion of Tyndall, placed beneath
a large portrait of Davy. At the turn of the stairs is a marble bust of
Wollaston. Farther on, in hall and library, you will find other busts of
Faraday, other portraits of Davy; portraits of Faraday everywhere,
and various other busts of notables who have had connection with the
institution. You will be shown the lecture-hall where Davy, Faraday,
and Tyndall pronounced their marvellous discourses; the arrangement, the
seats, the cushions even if appearances speak truly, and certainly the
lecture-desk itself, unchanged within the century. You may see the crude
balance, clumsy indeed to modern eyes, with which Davy performed his
wonders. The names and the memories of three great men--Davy,
Faraday, and Tyndall--will be incessantly before you, and the least
impressionable person could not well escape a certain sense of
consecration of his surroundings. The hush that is over everything seems
but fitting.

All that is as it should be. But there are other memories connected with
these surroundings which are not so tangibly presented to the senses.
For where, amid all these busts and portraits, is the image of that
other great man, the founder of the institution, the sole originator
of the enterprise which has made possible the aggregation of all
these names and these memories? Where are the remembran