This is dated at this modern Babylon, where I arrived about nine o’clock last evening. I stopped at the White Boar, Coventry Street, Piccadilly; had a quiet night’s sleep; rose early this morning, and had breakfasted and was on my way to Dr. Boott’s[50] (24 Gower Street) before ten o’clock. I found Doctor B. at home; was kindly received and was introduced to his wife, mother, children, and a brother from Boston who is now with him; spent an hour or two with him; heard that Hooker was in town. Though not a public day went to the British Museum; inquired for Brown (Mr. Brown, for he does not like to be called Dr.), and was so fortunate as to find not only the man himself I was so anxious to set my eyes on, but also Hooker, Joseph Hooker, Bennett,[51] and Dr. Richardson.[52] Passed an hour or two. Brown invited Hooker and me to breakfast with him on Saturday morning; went out with Hooker; first to the Linnæan Society; introduced to David Don,[53] a stout Scotchman, and looked through the rooms of the society. Don offered to give me every possible facility in my pursuits, but of course I said nothing to him about Pursh’s[54] herbarium at Lambert’s, of which he was formerly curator; for since he married Lambert’s housekeeper, or cook, I forget which, Lambert will not allow him to come into the house. From here Hooker took me,--stopping by the way at Philip’s, one of the most eminent painters, whose gallery we saw,--to the house of Lambert[55] himself, the queerest old mortal I ever set eyes on. But Carey’s description of the man was so accurate that I should have known him anywhere. I was of course invited to breakfast with him any morning at nine; he showed us his Cacti stuffed with plaster of paris, among others a very curious one called muff-cactus, which really looks just like a lady’s muff and is not much smaller. Lambert’s specimens are the only ones known, and he gave for them something like a hundred guineas,--the old goose! A woman has the care of his collections in place of Don. She stuffs the cacti and seems quite as enthusiastic as old Lambert himself. We went next to the Horticultural Society’s rooms in Regent Street in hopes to find Mr. Bentham; but instead we met Lindley, who received us very politely; he asked me to send him my address the moment I was settled in lodgings.... Here I parted from Hooker for the present, declining an invitation to join him at the dinner of the Royal Society’s Club, for which I was afterwards almost sorry, as I should have met there Hallam, the historian, and some other distinguished men, as also Brown, whose peculiar dry wit is said to have abounded greatly. Hooker seems as anxious to serve me and aid me here in London as at his own home. He is the most noble man I ever knew. Thence I took a cab and drove into the City, through Temple Bar, down Fleet Street; drove round St. Paul’s, to the office of Baring Brothers & Company, who are to be my