'She ushered me in, and introduced me to two young men, who looked no more like philosophers, however, than my own children. I thought they might be Mr. Bentham's sons, but this, I understood, was a mistake. I showed them the note I had received from Mr. Bowring, and they told me Mr. Bentham did not breakfast till three o'clock. This surprised me much, but they told me I might breakfast with them, which I did, though I was not much flattered by the honour of sitting down with Mr. Bentham's clerks, when I was invited by their master. Poor Mr. Bowring! thought I, he must be a meek-spirited young man if it was for this he waited so impatiently. I supposed the philosopher himself did not get up till noon, as he did not breakfast till so late, but in this I was also mistaken. About ten o'clock I was summoned to his presence, and mustered up all my courage and all my ideas for the meeting. His appearance struck me forcibly. His thin white locks, cut straight in the fashion of the Quakers, and hanging, or rather floating, on his shoulders; his garments something of Quaker colour and cut, and his frame rather square and muscular, with no exuberance of flesh, made up a singular-looking and not an inelegant old man. He welcomed me with a few hurried words, but without any ceremony, and then conducted me into several rooms to show me _his_ ammunition and materials of war. One very large room was nearly filled with books, and another with unbound works, which, I understood, were the philosopher's own composition. The former, he said, furnished him his supplies; and there was a great deal of labour required to read so many volumes. I said inadvertently, "I suppose you have quite forgotten what is said in the first before you read the last." Mr. Bentham, however, took this in good part, and, taking hold of my arm, said we would proceed on our journey. Accordingly, off we set, accompanied by one of his young men carrying a portfolio, to keep, I suppose, a log of our proceedings.