I nodded a yes; and therewith we turned to the left, and went down a
gentle slope through some beautiful rose-gardens, laid out on what I
took to be the site of Endell Street. We passed on, and Dick drew
rein an instant as we came across a long straightish road with houses
scantily scattered up and down it. He waved his hand right and left,
and said, "Holborn that side, Oxford Road that. This was once a very
important part of the crowded city outside the ancient walls of the
Roman and Mediaeval burg: many of the feudal nobles of the Middle
Ages, we are told, had big houses on either side of Holborn. I
daresay you remember that the Bishop of Ely's house is mentioned in
Shakespeare's play of King Richard III.; and there are some remains
of that still left. However, this road is not of the same
importance, now that the ancient city is gone, walls and all."

He drove on again, while I smiled faintly to think how the nineteenth
century, of which such big words have been said, counted for nothing
in the memory of this man, who read Shakespeare and had not forgotten
the Middle Ages.

We crossed the road into a short narrow lane between the gardens, and
came out again into a wide road, on one side of which was a great and
long building, turning its gables away from the highway, which I saw
at once was another public group. Opposite to it was a wide space of
greenery, without any wall or fence of any kind. I looked through
the trees and saw beyond them a pillared portico quite familiar to
me--no less old a friend, in fact, than the British Museum. It
rather took my breath away, amidst all the strange things I had seen;
but I held my tongue and let Dick speak. Said he:

"Yonder is the British Museum, where my great-grandfather mostly