In 1788, a middle-aged Irishman from county Meath, named Robert Barker, got admission to Reynolds, to show him a half-circle view from the Calton Hill, near Edinburgh, which Barker had painted in water-colours on the spot. The poor but accomplished artist had been unsuccessful as a portrait-painter in Dublin and Edinburgh. But he had studied perspective closely, an idea had struck him, and he came with it to Reynolds. The latter admired, but thought it impracticable. The Irishman thought otherwise. Barker exhibited circular views from nature, in London and also in the provinces, with indifferent success. At last, in 1793, on part of the old site of Leicester House, a building arose which was called the Panorama, and in which was exhibited a view of the Russian fleet at Spithead. The spectator was on board a ship in the midst of the scene and the view was all around him. King George and Queen Charlotte led the fashionable world to this most original exhibition. For many years there was a succession of magnificent views of foreign capitals, tracts of country, ancient cities, polar regions, battles, &c., exhibited; and ‘Have you been to the new panorama?’ was as naturally a spring question as ‘Have you been to the Academy?’ or the Opera? The exhibition of the ‘Stern Realities of Waterloo’ alone realised a little fortune, and ‘Pandemonium,’ painted by Mr. Henry Selous, was one of the latest of the great successes. At the north-east corner of Leicester Square, the Barkers, father and son, achieved what is called ‘a handsome competency.’ At the death of the latter, Robert Burford succeeded him, and, for a time, did well; but ‘Fashion’ wanted a new sensation. The panoramas in Leicester Square and the Strand, admirable as they were, ceased to draw the public; and courteous, lady-like, little Miss Burford, the proprietress, was compelled to withdraw, utterly shipwrecked. She used to receive her visitors like a true lady welcoming thorough ladies and gentlemen. The end was sad indeed, for the last heard of this aged gentlewoman was that she was enduring life by needle-work, rarely got and scantily paid, in a lodging, the modest rent of which, duly paid, kept her short of necessary food. An attempt was made to obtain her election to the ‘United Kingdom Beneficent Association,’ but with what result we are unable to record. Shadows of old Leicester Square figures come up in crowds, demanding recognition. They must be allowed to pass--to make a ‘march past,’ as it were; as they glide by we take note of Mirabeau and Marat, Holcroft, Opie, Edmund Kean, and Mulready, with countless others, to indite the roll of whose names only would alone require a volume. _A HUNDRED YEARS AGO._