It is pleasant also to me to know that for two whole months in the year these Temple Gardens still ring with the happy cries of children, for, in accordance with an old custom, they are thrown open from six to eight every evening from the twelfth of June to the twelfth of August to all the 'gutter children' of London, who pour into them from the filthy alleys of Clare Market, the Strand, Fleet Street, and even Southwark and Lambeth. During last summer, the Temple Gardens were visited by two hundred thousand of these children and-to their credit be it said they did no damage to shrub or flower. So thickly do the children crowd into the gardens, that upon a fine summer night I have seen the grass literally black with them.

Hard by the Temple Gardens stands the Temple Fountain, which Charles Lamb, in his boyish days as he says himself in his Essays by Elia' 'made to rise and fall many times to the astonishment of the young urchins, my contemporaries, who, not being able to guess at its recondite machinery, were almost tempted to hail the wondrous work as magic.' Has not Mr. Dickens told us in 'Martin Chuzzlewit' how, as Ruth Pinch listened to the music of the Temple Fountain, she discovered that she had a heart, and that it was already given

to John Westlock?

Under the shadow of the

Temple Fountain, too, was not poor Tom Pinch, as he came from his work every evening, met by his sister Ruth, and can we not see both of them (and sometimes John Westlock also!) going smiling home together?

According to Charles Lamb-who, however, was a very partial judge-'the Temple is the most elegant spot in the metropolis.' Whether this be not too extravagant a eulogy I shall leave to others to decide, but unquestionably if there be any part of the Temple which may justly be styled elegant, it is the spot where the fountain stands. About twelve years ago, the benchers of the Temple had the bad taste to propose to build a new library upon the site of the fountain, but-to the credit of the members of the Upper Temple be it remembered the whole society rose in arms against such an act of Vandalism. In the end, the benchers had to yield to the wishes of the Templars, and in order to save the fountain, they were obliged to purchase a plot of ground near the river, whereon to erect the new library. Lawyers are not usually regarded as being a very sentimental race of men, and therefore my readers would probably be profoundly astonished were I to tell them how many thousands of pounds this little bit of sentiment about the

preservation of the Temple Fountain cost the members of the Hon. Society of the Upper 、 Temple.

I had to remark just now that no one who lives in the Temple ever walks in the gardens, and I am afraid that to a limited extent-the same thing must be said as to the attendance of resident Templars at the Temple Church. When countrycousins come up to town, and call upon Mr. Briefless, in all probability that learned gentleman will at their request escort them on Sunday to the grand old Temple Church, with its wonderful 'round,' its tapering columns of Purbeck marble, its roof all ablaze with devices of the arms of the two societies of the Temple, and last, not least, its splendid organ and famous choir. Probably also, upon such occasions, Mr. Briefless may intimate, in sufficiently general terms, that 'he attends the Temple Church;' but I am afraid that, excepting on rare occasions, the residents in the Temple do not affect the Temple Church, and that the proverb, 'The nearer the church the farther from God,' is painfully true in their case. Should my reader ever feel the sermon dull at the Temple Church, I may suggest to him a subject of thought. It is said that the benchers of the Temple spent seventy thousand pounds, about twenty-five years ago, in restoring the church.

Query, how on earth came they to spend so much money? and where are the results thereof?

How many men do actually reside in the Temple, I have never been able satisfactorily to ascertain. Probably their number is two or three hundred. The majority of them are young men lately called to the bar, and who reside in a state of brieflessness in chambers upon the third and fourth floors. Most of these men live alone; but occasionally two friends are to be found who chum together. Upon

each man a woman who is termed in the Temple a 'laundress,' but who would be called at the universities a 'bed-maker,' attends. Most of these women 'do' for two or three men, and as their wages run from five shillings to seven shillings a week, they make, considering the lightness of their duties, a very good income. The whole work of these women can usually be performed by them in a very few minutes daily, for it only consists in coming to the chambers in the morning, kindling a fire, laying breakfast, and making a bed. In the evening, usually, the laundress again comes in, lays tea, kindles a fire, and departs. This is their whole daily duty. I know of one laundress, who, in addition to attending to her own house and family, acts as laundress to five barristers in the Temple, and thereby earns for

herself the yearly income of a curate. It has been the fashion in several popular novels to represent the Temple laundresses as being in a state of perpetual drunkenness, as continually helping themselves to their masters' viands, and, in short, victimising them in every possible way. I must say, in justice to the Temple laundresses, that, although no doubt some of them do imbibe occasionally a little too freely, whilst others of their number unquestionably entertain ideas upon the subject of meum and tuum which are hopelessly at war with those of their masters, still they are, generally speaking, an industrious and honest body of women.

On the whole, I am disposed to think that the chief drawback to life in chambers in the Temple is the great dinner question.' During term time, the members of the Upper Temple can get an excellent dinner in the hall of that society at a most moderate price; and why they should not be permitted to enjoy the same privilege out of term time would require no less a person than a bencher satisfactorily to explain! If the members of the Upper Temple happen to be also members of a good club, of course they can dine there comfortably enough when the hall of their own society is closed to them. The great majority of the residents in the Temple are, however, compelled nightly to

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