The eight Astronomers Royal have, as already said, kept the Observatory strictly on the lines originally laid down for it, subject, of course, to that enlargement which the growth of the science has inevitably brought. But had they been inclined to change its course, the Board of Visitors has been specially appointed to bring them back to the right way. As already mentioned in the account of Flamsteed, the Board dates from 1710, when it practically consisted of the President and Council of the Royal Society. Its Royal warrant lapsed on the death of Queen Anne, and was not renewed at the accession of the two following sovereigns; but in the reign of George III. a new warrant was issued under date February 22, 1765; and this was renewed at the accession of George IV. When William IV. came to the throne, the constitution of the Board was extended, so as to give a representation to the new Royal Astronomical Society, founded in 1820. The President of the Royal Society is still chairman of the Board, but the Admiralty, of which the Observatory is a department, the two Universities of Oxford and Cambridge, and the Royal Astronomical Society are all represented on it by _ex officio_ members, and twelve other members are contributed by the Royal and Royal Astronomical Societies respectively, six by each. The first Saturday in June is the appointed day for the annual inspection by the Board, and for the presentation to it of the Astronomer Royal's Report. To this all-important business meeting has been added something of a social function, by the invitation of many well-known astronomers and the leading men of the allied sciences to inspect the results of the year, and to partake of the chocolate and cracknels, which have been the traditional refreshments offered on these occasions for a period 'whereof the memory of man runneth not to the contrary.' CHAPTER VI THE TIME DEPARTMENT One day two Scotchmen stood just outside the main entrance of Greenwich Observatory, looking intently at the great twenty-four-hour clock, which is such an object of attention to the passers through the Park. 'Jock,' said one of them to the other, 'd'ye ken whaur ye are?' Jock admitted his ignorance. 'Ye are at the vara ceentre of the airth.' Geographers tell us that there is a sense in which this statement as it stands may be accepted as true. For if the surface of the globe be divided into two hemispheres, so related to each other that the one contains as much land as possible, and the other as little, then London will occupy the centre or thereabouts of the hemisphere with most land. This was not, however, what the Scotchman meant. He meant to tell his companion that he was standing on the prime meridian of the world, the imaginary base line from which all distances, east or west, are reckoned; in short, that he was on 'Longitude Nought.'