Won't have anything more to do with the omnibuses. Enter hansom--old man (the driver) smiles civilly when I say "British Museum." Now, I must seriously rest. Go to sleep. Slumber until awakened by a jolt. Look out. Find myself near the river. Strikes me that the Thames is not close to the Museum. Appeal to cabman through the hole in the roof. Difficulty in attracting his attention. Stop him at last. Ask him why he did not take me to the Museum. He smiles and says he didn't hear me--he is deaf! Very angry. He expostulates, civilly. He saw I was asleep and didn't wish to disturb me! He has been driving up and down the Thames Embankment for the last three hours--charge seven and sixpence. Don't see my way out of the difficulty, except by payment. He thanks me, and suggests that he shall now drive me to the Museum for eighteen-pence. Very angry and refuse. He is hailed by someone else, and is off to pick up his new fare. On consideration it seems to me that my anger has led to nothing. Nothing--just what I wanted, but not exactly at the right moment. Rather hungry. Enter a restaurant. Crowded with gentlemen wearing hats--who seem to be on intimate terms with the waiters. Get a bill of fare which is thrust into my hands by an attendant loaded with dishes. Let me see--what shall I have? "Lamb's head and peas." Have never tried this dish. Might be good. Waiter (who seems to be revolving, like the planetary system, in an orbit) reaches me, and I shout what I want. He replies, "Sorry, Sir, just off," and vanishes. Look up something else. "Liver and bacon." Not had it for years! Used to like it. On reappearance of the planetary waiter, give my order. He nods and vanishes. Wait patiently. Rather annoyed that my nearest neighbour has used my part of the table for a dish containing broad beans. Glare at him. No result. Planetary waiter has passed me twice--stop him angrily the third time. He is less busy now--he pauses. He thrusts bill of fare before me, and asks me "what I would please to want." Explode and shout in tones of thunder, "Liver and bacon!" He disappears, and comes back a few minutes later, saying, "Very sorry, but when I first ordered it, liver and bacon _was_ on--now it's off. Will I have a chop?" Reply angrily, "No." Same answer to "Steak," "Duck and green peas," "A cut off the beef joint," and "Irish stew." Waiter asks (with forced civility), "What _will_ I have!" I return, as I leave the restaurant, "Nothing!" On regaining the street (although hungry) I am pleased to think that I am still obeying Dr. MORTIMER GRANVILLE's directions! No use trying cab or omnibus. Both failures. Why not walk? Good way of wasting time, so begin to go northward, and in due course get to Bloomsbury. Enter Museum. Umbrella seized. Approach Reading Room. Civil attendant informs me that the Library is closed--taking stock, or something! Then I have come all this way for nothing! Angry, but inwardly contented. Doing nothing "very thoroughly!" [Illustration]