Gloomsbury-on-Ooze, night may be said to be perpetual.

. . . . .

I had written the whole of the above chapter and looked on it as
finished when I realised that I had made a terrible omission. I
neglected to say anything about the Mind of London. This is a thing
that is always put into any book of discovery and observation and
I can only apologise for not having discussed it sooner. I am quite
familiar with other people's chapters on "The Mind of America,"
and "The Chinese Mind," and so forth. Indeed, so far as I know it
has turned out that almost everybody all over the world has a mind.
Nobody nowadays travels, even in Central America or Thibet, without
bringing back a chapter on "The Mind of Costa Rica," or on the
"Psychology of the Mongolian." Even the gentler peoples such as
the Burmese, the Siamese, the Hawaiians, and the Russians, though
they have no minds are written up as souls.

It is quite obvious then that there is such a thing as the mind of
London: and it is all the more culpable in me to have neglected it in
as much as my editorial friend in New York had expressly mentioned it
to me before I sailed. "What," said he, leaning far over his desk
after his massive fashion and reaching out into the air, "what is in
the minds of these people? Are they," he added, half to himself,
though I heard him, "are they thinking? And, if they think, what do
they think?"

I did therefore, during my stay in London, make an accurate study of
the things that London seemed to be thinking about. As a comparative
basis for this study I brought with me a carefully selected list of