t the Museum chiefly in order to see the people, it has
long been painfully evident that the folk who do not bring that sense
with them go away carrying nothing of it home with them. Nothing at
all. Those glass cases, those pictures, those big jugs, say no more to
the crowd than a cuneiform or a Hittite inscription. They have now, or
had quite recently, on exhibition a collection of turnips and carrots
beautifully modelled in wax: it is perhaps hoped that the
contemplation of these precious but homely things may carry the people
a step farther in the direction of culture than Sir Richard Wallace's
pictures could effect. In fact, the Bethnal Green Museum does no more
to educate the people than the British Museum. It is to them simply a
collection of curious things which is sometimes changed. It is cold
and dumb. It is merely a dull and unintelligent branch of a
department; and it will remain so, because whatever the collections
may be, a Museum can teach nothing, unless there is someone to expound
the meaning of the things. Why, even that wonderful Museum of the
House Beautiful could teach the pilgrims no lessons at all until the
Sisters explained to them what were the rare and curious things
preserved in their glass cases.

Is it possible that, by any persuasion, attraction, or teaching, the
walking men of this country can be induced to aim at those organized,
highly skilled, and disciplined forms of recreation which make up the
better pleasure of life? Will they consent, without hope of gain, to
give the labour, patience, and practice required of every man who
would become master of any art or accomplishment, or even any game?
There are men, one is happy to find, who think that it is not only
possible, but even easy, to effect this, and the thing is about to be
transferred from the region or theory to that of practice, by the
creation of the People's Palace.

The general scheme is already well known. Because the Mile End Road
runs through the most extensive portion of the most dismal city in the
world, the city which has been suffered to exist without recreation,
it has been chosen as the fitting site of the Palace. As regards
simple absence of joy, Hoxton, Haggerston, Pentonville, Clerkenwell,
or Kentish Town, might contend, and have a fair chance of success,
with any portion whatever of the East-end proper. But, then, around
Mile End lie Stepney, Whitechapel, Bethnal Green, the Cambridge Road,
the Commercial Road,