ons who
inhabit them, and a share of rough comforts and freedom which men always
remember with pleasure. I don't know whether the student of law
permits himself the refreshment of enthusiasm, or indulges in poetical
reminiscences as he passes by historical chambers, and says, "Yonder
Eldon lived--upon this site Coke mused upon Littleton--here Chitty
toiled--here Barnewall and Alderson joined in their famous labours--here
Byles composed his great work upon bills, and Smith compiled his
immortal leading cases--here Gustavus still toils, with Solomon to aid
him:" but the man of letters can't but love the place which has been
inhabited by so many of his brethren, or peopled by their creations as
real to us at this day as the authors whose children they were--and Sir
Roger de Coverley walking in the Temple Garden, and discoursing with
Mr. Spectator about the beauties in hoops and patches who are sauntering
over the grass, is just as lively a figure to me as old Samuel Johnson
rolling through the fog with the Scotch gentleman at his heels on their
way to Dr. Goldsmith's chambers in Brick Court; or Harry Fielding, with
inked ruffles and a wet towel round his head, dashing off articles
at midnight for the Covent Garden Journal, while the printer's boy is
asleep in the passage.

If we could but get the history of a single day as it passed in any one
of those four-storied houses in the dingy court where our friends Pen
and Warrington dwelt, some Temple Asmodeus might furnish us with a queer
volume. There may be a great parliamentary counsel on the ground floor,
who drives off to Belgravia at dinner-time, when his clerk, too, becomes
a gentleman, and goes away to entertain his friends, and to take his
pleasure. But a short time since he was hungry and briefless in some
garret of the Inn; lived by stealthy literature; hoped, and waited, and
sickened, and no clients came; exhausted his own means and his friends'
kindness; had to remonstrate humbly with duns, and to implore the
patience of poor creditors. Ruin seemed to be staring him in the face,
when, behold, a turn of the wheel of fortune, and the lucky wretch in
possession of one of those prodigious prizes which are sometimes drawn
in the great lottery of the Bar. Many a better lawyer than himself does
not make a fifth part of the income of his clerk, who, a few months
since, could scarcely get credit for blacking for his master's unpaid
boots. On the first floor, perhaps, you wi