The first case on the right of the entrance contains Benjamin Franklin’s press, at which he worked when a journeyman-printer in London. It is old and worm-eaten, and is only held together by means of bolts and iron plates, and bears but little resemblance to the mighty machines by which the printing of to-day is done. Then come models of “fire-escapes,” some of which are curiosities and well worth studying. The impression left by the majority, however, is that if they constitute one’s only hope of escape, in case of fire, an old-fashioned headlong leap from a window may just as well be attempted at once. Near by are the models of those inventive geniuses who have attempted to extinguish conflagrations by discharging a patent cartridge into the burning mass. The guns, from which the cartridges are thrown, are most remarkable in design. Then follow tobacco-cutting machines, of various kinds, all sorts of skates, billiard-table models, ice-cutters, billiard-registers, improved fire-arms, and toys, of different designs, among which is a most ingenious model of a walking-horse. Having reached the end of this row of cases, we cross over to the south side of the hall. The first cases contain models of cattle and sheep-stalls, vermin and rat-traps, and are followed by a handsome display of articles in gutta percha, manufactured by the Goodyear Company. In the bottom of one of the cases is an old mariner’s compass of the year 1604, presented by Ex-Governor Wise, of Virginia, then United States Minister to Brazil, in the name of Lieutenant Sheppard, U. S. N. The ticket attached to the compass is written in the bold, running hand of the ex-rebel statesman. Near by is a razor which belonged to the celebrated navigator, Captain Cook. It was recovered from the natives of the island upon which he was murdered, and is hardly such an instrument any of those who behold it would care to use. A piece of the Atlantic cable is just below it. Several of the cases following contain the original treaties of the United States with foreign powers. They are written upon heavy sheets of vellum, in wretchedly bad hands, and are worn and faded. All, save the treaties with England and the Eastern nations, are written in French, and are all furnished with a multiplicity of red and green seals; the first is the treaty with Austria, and bears the weak, hesitating signature of Francis I. The signature of Alexander I., attached to the first Russian treaty, has more character in it. The treaty of peace with England, in 1814, which ended our second war with that power, bears the signature of the Regent, afterwards George IV. The treaty of 1803, with the Republic of France, is signed “Bonaparte,” in a nervous, sprawling hand. Bernadotte’s smooth and flowing hand adorns the first treaty with Sweden.