9th July, 1872.
A friend comes to see me. He shares my opinion of the French hotel, and will look for a comfortable apartment in an English house for me. We breakfast together, and I ask him a thousand questions.
He knows every thing, it seems, and I gather valuable information rapidly.
He prepares a programme of sight-seeing which it will take me a good many days to work through.
The weather is glorious.
My boxes are packed and ready to be removed—to-night, I hope.
Will pay my first visit to the British Museum.
I hail a cab in Regent Circus.
"Is the British Museum far from here?" I cry to the man seated on a box behind.
"No, sir; I will take you there for a shilling," he replies.