_The New Reading-Room; Sir C. Barry’s Plans; Completion and Breakfast; Mr Hosking’s Plans; Controversy; Bust by Baron Marochetti; Austria Applies for Plans of Reading-Room._ It has been, and doubtless for some centuries to come will be, a matter of regret that the unrivalled collection called the British Museum has not, after the incalculable labour bestowed, and the vast sums of money spent upon it, found a home more worthy of its invaluable contents than the present building. Of this huge pile—an irregular oblong—but little appeals to the eye, less to the power of discussion. The Eastern and Western Wings still remain partially exposed to view in all their normal hideousness of yellow brick, unadorned by aught save a few meagre mouldings. The front, being, of course, the most conspicuous part of the structure, has been the object of attention, and has been ornamented in a manner suiting it to the public gaze. To effect this desirable, and certainly most legitimate object, choice has strangely been made of a style which, in itself most beautiful, is so hampered and restricted by the straitest and severest rules as to be almost incapable of adaptation to purposes of modern utility, and a magnificent Ionic portico and peristyle have been erected; the building, as a whole, thus presenting a striking contrast to any other structure to be found in the metropolis. Confront the British Museum for one moment with the Madeleine of Paris, and how great is the difference! In the latter is seen the nearest approach to true Grecian architecture, combined with admirable proportions, and tasteful and correct ornamentation; by admission of light from the roof, the unsightliness of windows inserted in the walls is avoided, and, in its entirety, the building fairly represents that which it purports to be. Let the visitor, however, enter, and he will find himself somewhat disappointed; for, instead of seeing a tolerably correct Greek temple, he will find a singularly ineffective and mediocre Christian Church. The profuseness of decoration, much of it foreign to the style, the want of power in what should be the central point of attraction, the general horizontal character of the lines, throwing out the building in an unnatural degree—all show the abortiveness of an effort to lend the rigidity of ancient forms to the exigencies of modern tastes. Still, to compare the Madeleine, with all its faults, to the British Museum, would be an insult to the former; not that the classical façade of our own building is without merit: the nobility and majesty of the portico and colonnade cannot well be denied, and, if built of white marble (supposing the brightness of the marble could be preserved in this variable climate) instead of their present dingy material, they would have constituted, by their own merit, a most striking and dignified object, whatever cavils might have existed as to the reality of the purpose to which they would have been applied.