After this I got to understand that when a Londoner says, "Have
you seen the Tower of London?" the answer is, "No, and neither have
you."

Take the parallel case of the British Museum. Here is a place that is
a veritable treasure house. A repository of some of the most
priceless historical relics to be found upon the earth. It contains,
for instance, the famous Papyrus Manuscript of Thotmes II of the
first Egyptian dynasty--a thing known to scholars all over the world
as the oldest extant specimen of what can be called writing; indeed
one can here see the actual evolution (I am quoting from a work of
reference, or at least from my recollection of it) from the
ideographic cuneiform to the phonetic syllabic script. Every time I
have read about that manuscript and have happened to be in Orillia
(Ontario) or Schenectady (N.Y.) or any such place, I have felt that I
would be willing to take a whole trip to England to have five minutes
at the British Museum, just five, to look at that papyrus. Yet as
soon as I got to London this changed. The railway stations of London
have been so arranged that to get to any train for the north or west,
the traveller must pass the British Museum. The first time I went by
it in a taxi, I felt quite a thrill. "Inside those walls," I thought
to myself, "is the manuscript of Thotmes II." The next time I
actually stopped the taxi. "Is that the British Museum?" I asked the
driver, "I think it is something of the sort, sir," he said. I
hesitated. "Drive me," I said, "to where I can buy safety razor
blades."

After that I was able to drive past the Museum with the quiet
assurance of a Londoner, and to take part in dinner table discussions