Friday evening.--I breakfasted at my lodgings this morning, and afterwards walked out with Sir William and Joe Hooker to Regent’s Park; went to the Coliseum to see the Panorama of London, and well worth seeing it is. It will save me a visit to the top of the dome of St. Paul’s, I think, for the Panorama is said to be more perfect than nature. I will say no more about it, as Dr. Torrey has seen it. The illusion is perfect, were it not for some unseemly cracks in the sky! We called on Dr. Boott; then went into the City. Our object was to visit the museum at the India House (where the poet Lamb spent so great a portion of his life). I made the acquaintance, of Dr. Horsfield,[62] the curator, who also collected the best part of the museum in Java and India. He is an American, if you can so call a man who has not been in the country since the year 1800. I was much interested with the library, which contains a vast quantity of Indian idols, sculptures, and antiquities, as well as fine Chinese curiosities. It is immensely rich, also, in Indian, Persian, and Arabic manuscripts; the finest in the world in such things. Some of the Persian (Arabic) manuscripts are most beautifully illustrated, or illuminated, and the writing is neater than you can conceive. Here is preserved also an original petition of the India Company to Oliver Cromwell, with the answer in his own rough and strong handwriting.[63] ... We dined at Lambert’s, where we found Robert Brown, Mr. Ward,[64] who had been looking for me, and immediately asked me to name a day to see his plants in the Wardian cases, and an evening erelong to examine some thirty or forty first-rate microscopes which he has in his house; also Dr. Bostock, Mr. Benson, a legal gentleman, a great scholar and author; and last, not least, yet certainly almost the last person I should have expected to see, Lady Charlotte Bury (formerly Lady Charlotte Campbell), whom you will remember as the author of that book on the secret history of the court of George IV. and his Queen, of which we read together, that summer, the deeply interesting review by Brougham. Lady Bury is now supposed to be sixty years old, and was for a long time considered as the handsomest woman in Great Britain; she still looks well, though too embonpoint, and dresses like a young lady, with short sleeves. She is of a high family, a sister of the present Duke of Argyll, and is certainly talented; she is said to be quite poor. Her daughters are married into families of rank, except one (Miss Bury) who was with her mother at Lambert’s, whom Sir William Hooker thought remarkably handsome, but I did not. As I have not a high respect for Lady Bury’s character I did not throw myself into her circle, and saw almost nothing of her the whole evening. We came away early.