walked through a quarter of a mile of animals, more or less well
stuffed, with their long names written out underneath them; and, unless
your experience is very different from that of most people, the upshot
of it all is that you leave that splendid pile with sore feet, a bad
headache, and a general idea that the animal kingdom is a "mighty maze
without a plan." I do not think that a museum which brings about this
result does all that may be reasonably expected from such an
institution. What is needed in a collection of natural history is that
it should be made as accessible and as useful as possible, on the one
hand to the general public, and on the other to scientific workers.
That need is not met by constructing a sort of happy hunting-ground of
miles of glass cases; and, under the pretence of exhibiting everything
putting the maximum amount of obstacle in the way of those who wish
properly to see anything.

What the public want is easy and unhindered access to such a collection
as they can understand and appreciate; and what the men of science want
is similar access to the materials of science. To this end the
vast mass of objects of natural history should be divided into two
parts--one open to the public, the other to men of science, every day.
The former division should exemplify all the more important and
interesting forms of life. Explanatory tablets should be attached to
them, and catalogues containing clearly-written popular expositions of
the general significance of the objects exhibited should be provided.
The latter should contain, packed into a comparatively small space, in
rooms adapted for working purposes, the objects of purely scientific
interest. For example, we will say I am an ornithologist. I go to
examine a collection of birds. It is a positive nuisance to have them
stuffed. It is not only sheer waste, but I have to reckon with the
ideas of the bird-stuffer, while, if I have the skin and nobody has