About 2,000 years ago this same inquiry arose,—"What is Old?" A person was praising the poets of antiquity: he didn't like the modern poets at all—there wasn't one worth reading. Give him the old poets—there was something in them. " Well," replied Horace, "what do you call old? Will a man who has been dead 100 years do for you?" "Oh! yes, a hundred years will do very well." "What," again inquired Horace, "if he had only died ninety-nine years ago ?" "Well, I won't stick about a year," was the reply. "Then," said Horace, "if you concede that, I shall take it away year by year till you have no antiquity at all." (A laugh.) It is just so with us; we can't fix a standard of antiquity. No line can be drawn but what year after year might be conceded over it—and, in fact, everything is old that is of yesterday. You will increase the objects of this Society beyond all control, as well as beyond all practical utility, if you take in everything merely because it is old. Supposing what I hope will never happen—that the splendid fleet in the Baltic was lost in a storm—not an impossible event—and the Russians were to get out with their ships, come over, and burn London. The archæologists, a couple of years hence, would pay the site of the town a visit, and commence digging among the ruins; but it would not be the mere finding of the relics alone that would enable them to trace out the habits and customs of the people who lived there. Merely digging among the remains of a Roman fortress and finding relics will not alone tell us of their mode of life. All these things are of value and useful to the well-instructed according to the associations with which they are connected, and the bearing which they have upon facts already known. The true purpose of such a Society as this is, to trace out, by means of a close comparison of relics with records, the habits of life, the manners, and the customs of people of a past age, illustrating and illuminating their mode of government, their form of religion, the state of their laws, and their artistic skill. In this respect such societies have an advantage which none others can present. (Cheers.) There is one thing that I must affirm, that in archæology, as in many other things, the pursuit is much more gratifying than the possession. I have been a collector of minerals, old coins, and all sorts of things, all my life, and I can assure you that the pleasure of collecting them was greater than possessing them. There is a striking illustration of this in what is called the old English sport of fox-hunting. Our sporting gentlemen go to a most enormous expense, run the hazard of breaking their necks every day, and when they have caught the object of their pursuit, it is a nasty stinking beast not worth having—(laughter),—thus showing the difference between the pleasure of pursuit and acquisition. I am sorry to say that there is no country in Europe that has taken such bad care of its historical possessions as Great Britain—as I will show very shortly. In Ireland there is no such thing, for a great number of years, as a parish register. Not a single register in proof of marriage, birth, or death is there to be found; and in Scotland it is pretty much the same. One great reason, I believe, which is urged by the Scotch for this want is, that their public documents were taken away by the English Edward, and the
