Victory! Stopped one partially occupied. No room outside. Enter
interior. Six passengers on one seat. Five on the other. The half
dozen regard me with contemptuous indifference. The five make no room.
Explain that I want a seat. Remark received in silence. Sit down on
knee of small boy. Mother (next him) expostulates--angrily. Chorus of
indignant beholders. Conductor is impertinent. Ask for his number,
he asks for my fare. Pay him. While this is going on, young woman has
entered omnibus, and taken vacant seat. Conductor counts places, says
there is no room. Can't carry me. Won't give back fare--has torn off
ticket. Says I must get out. Say I will report him. Impudent
again. Getting out drop ticket. Incident subsequently (to my later
satisfaction) leads to nothing!

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.