laid their noses together and settled the matter to their mutual satisfaction, Mrs Two-to-one confirming by her approval the resolution of her spouse, for several reasons replete with maternal wisdom and affection, but especially because it would vex old Balls, the other rich pawnbroker of Holborn bars, who had purchased a commission in a marching regiment for his son, Mr Fitzstephen-Augustus Balls, and whose hodious daughters, as Miss Seraphina Two-to-one called them, were perpetually handing round Holborn bars bundles of perfumed letters received by them from their brother Haugustus the hofficer! "It would cut their livers out," Mrs Two-to-one classically remarked, "to think that my son Freddy is for to come for to go to be a barrystir at the lawr, and for to sit on the Lord Chancellor's woolpack without never payin' a sixpence, as his mother had for to pay bless him! Vell, Timmy dear, who'd a ever a thort it that our Fred would a cum to sichin a 'igh sitivation; and as for them hodious Ballses over the way, what takes in stolen goods or any think, for my part, I must have my say out-I can't a bear 'em!" How much more Mrs Two-to-one might have said upon the subject of her son Freddy, the odious Ballses, or the honourable profession of the law, it is utterly impossible for me to say; her oration being suspended for that evening by the involuntary performance of a solo on his natural trombone by her lord and master, which indicated that gentlemen's utter unconsciousness of all that his better-half had been talking about for the last three quarters of an hour. The peripatetic reader will have the politeness to walk with Mr FrederickWilliam Two-to-one and myself down Holborn into Chancery Lane, and thence turning to the right under a Gothic gateway to the Steward's office in Lincoln's Inn, where Mr Two-toone has finally decided to enter his name, on purpose to commencing the gastronomic course of study, for which, as we have seen, by his performances upon the toad in the hole," that young gentleman was so admirably qualified. The Temple was at first selected as the Inn which was to have the honour of employing its cooks in the service of young Two-to-one; but it being happily ascertained from 66 one of the waiters at Lincoln's Inn, who was a friend of the family, that the dinners were more plentiful, and the wine twice as strong there as at the Temple, the destination of the youthful aspirant was immediately changed, with the full approbation and consent of the pawnbroker and his wife, who wisely observed that their son "could tuck in a pretty good lot, and they saw no reason in life why they should not have full value for their money." As the usual preliminary to being admitted a regular customer of the great eating-house of Lincoln's Inn, all aspirants for that high honour are required to produce to the Steward of the Inn a medical certificate of their digestive powers, the form whereof, for the use and benefit of all future applicants, I hereafter insert: We, the undersigned, having duly and solemnly examined Mr Frederick William Two-to-one on two several occasions, the examination of the first day being confined to roast pork and pickled salmon, that of the second to baked mackerel and fried liver with bacon, do certify, under our several hands and wafers, that Mr Frederick William Two-to-one is in full possession of his digestive powers, and a proper person to be admitted of this Inn, for the purpose of guttling his way to the bar. (Signed) "A. B., M.D., L.S. "C. D., M.R. C.S., L.S. "E. F., M.A.C., L.S." If the candidate for admission happens to be in possession of a testimonial from Cartwright the dentist as to the condition of his teeth, more especially the incisors and molars, he will not be a whit the worse for it. The next little matter to be attended to in the Steward's office is to give security for the victuals and drink that you are expected to devour, or what Doctor O Toole very emphatically calls theating and the drinking;' and this was done in the case of young Two-to-one, as in every other case, by the deposit of a hundred pounds I should rather say by the sacrifice of one hundred pounds, because, although at the time of payment it is called a deposit, it becomes, in the course of the "ating and drinking," a lien in the hands of the Benchers, and is generally taken out by the young lawyer in grub. The Benchers very naturally look for this security, knowing that if they were to find roast legs of impregnable mutton and bottles of red-hot port on their own responsibility, the whole town would hasten to the Inn to do them honour, and all London become but one gigantic law yer. Accordingly, for fear of accidents, and lest the young student should drop off in an apoplexy, or choke himself with the back-bone of a baked mackerel, as often happens, care is taken that the parents, friends, or guardians of the youth shall be made responsible for the damage-so that at the present time Lincoln's Inn is the only eating-house in London where the customers pay in advance. Formerly there was no further check upon the students than their own honour, and the consequence was the Inn became impoverished, and the Benchers began to talk of surrendering en masse for the purpose of taking the benefit of the insolvent act, the immortal oyster-eater (Dando) and several other gentlemen of his description, having become members of the Inn, and carrying all before them. The present system, however, saved the Inn from total ruin, and by enhancing the price of admission, swells the number of candidates panting to be admitted; for you will not fail to observe, that in this country, if you make admission any where difficult, and give out that the entertainment is considered vastly genteel, you will have all the men canvassing, and all the women pulling caps for tickets, though the spectacle be a pas de deux of dancing-dogs, the erudition of the learned pig, or the vagaries of the comical donkey! This is the reason why all the unappropriated young gentlemen and sons of pawnbrokers flock to Lincoln's Inn, and this it was that brought thither Master FrederickWilliam Two-to-one. The preliminaries being now arranged satisfactorily, and security given in the usual form that all the grub to be eaten would be paid for, the pawnbroker returned to Holborn bars with such elation of countenance and agility of step, that it would have cut the liver out of old Balls, the rival pawnbroker, to have seen him, although he did go home just one hundred and fifty odd pounds (the fifty odd pounds being for stamp duties and fees) poorer than he left it. Master Frederick- William, in the mean time, took an airing in Lincoln's Inn gardens, among the little nursery boys and girls, to whose almost exclusive use that spacious enclosure is appropriated, throwing, at intervals, longing lingering glances at the dining-hall clock, and sharpening the edge of his appetite by a succession of turns on the noble terrace that overlooks Lincoln's Inn Fields, as if equally impressed with his venerable father of the propriety of having value for his money! As the hour of half-past four draws nigh, the gardens gradually fill with enthusiastic students eager for the fray, and all eyes are directed towards the tardy clock, that, having no appetite of its own to satisfy, seems determined not to hurry Phoebus' cattle to satisfy the appetites of others, but slowly and sedately "walks its lonely round" of the dial-plate with a most provoking gravity of motion. A loud noise now attracts the attention of Master Frederick-William Two-to-one, and, directing his steps to the great door of the dining hall, whence the noise is heard to proceed, he observes a mob of students gathered round, jostling, hustling, and kicking one another's shins, with all the pertinacity of professional ambition-but all in vain; for the two or three interior strata of the mob, being composed of hungry broad-shouldered Irish students, foil the more remote aspirants in every effort to approach the door, the Hibernians holding on by the doorposts, manfully kicking the door, and determined, apparently by their energetic agitation, to insist on "Justice to Ireland." The mob gathers imperceptibly, and blocks up the public thoroughfare the hustling, jostling, and swaying to and fro of contending portions of the crowd, becomes more and more energetic-the Milesians at the door are evidently kicking the panels in-a magistrate, who happens to be passing, runs home for the Riot Act, and a posse of the new police arrives to act as an army of observation. Suddenly, within the gate a grateful sound, as of the withdrawal of bolts, is heard-the swaying to and fro, the hustling and the jostling, are all exchanged for an uniform forward pressure-the Milesians are on the qui vive-the doors open-the rush, fully equal to that of the pit-door at Drury the table of the Benchers, remains there, while three solemn knocks with a hammer, after the fashion of the Cock-Lane ghost, announce his presence. Grace is said with becoming solemnity; and it is proper to remark, that grace is pronounced by the present reader in a tone and manner that give to this usually unimportant ceremony an air, if not devotional, at least reverend and impressive. Loud is the noise of the company, one and all resuming their places-tremendous the clangour of knives, forks, and spoons the day may be truly said to have commenced here at least there are none briefless-all are engaged in the cause-and every learned gentleman confronts his equally learned friend on the opposite side. While the profession is thus worthily employed, let the disinterested reader walk with me through the venerable dome, and regard the several objects of attraction therein contained, which the noise and racket prevent me pointing out. At the top of the hall, exactly over the centre of the Benchers' table, which extends crosswise from east to west, is the Chancellor's chair Lane on a command night, tumbles in, upsetting the unfortunate porter who opens the gate, the old woman who serves the students with gowns, and two or three rash under-waiters who happen to be lingering near the spot -the hall is filled in the twinkling of a bed-post! And now an internal scene of confusion is being enacted in taking places; that operation being performed, by seizing upon as many plates as you can lay hold of with your fingers, toes, or teeth, and turning them bottom upwards, by which, you acquire the right of next presen--the serious professional business of tation to all such places so secured, for as many of the mob of your acquaintance as may happen to come late, and also have the pleasure of observing gentlemen of decency and feeling, who do not appertain to the mob, retire from the hall, unable to procure places in consequence of your successful monopoly. It wants now but a quarter to five; and the barristers of twenty years' standing, who have arrived at the dignity of the cucumber, come dropping in, one after another, and proceed with becoming gravity to the upper end of the hall, where they begin to open oysters, throwing away the shells to the right and left, after eating the fish with judicial impartiality. It is five o'clock-the mob of students are all decorated with gowns -the barristers all radiant in their patent wigs-the talking is fearful, and the opening of oysters proceeds with alarming velocity-there cannot at this moment be fewer than fifteen hundred embryo Lord High Chancellors in the hall. Suddenly a gentleman-usher "As peevish, tart, and splenetic, appears at the upper extremity of the As dog distract or monkey sick." hall, and proclaims with a loud voice"BENCHERS, GENTLEMEN-BENCHERS, To the right of the schoolmaster is GENTLEMEN-IF YOU PLEASE." A placed the armorial ensign of that upcrimson curtain is now withdrawn, and right judge and excellent man, Lord in single file a long array of elderly Denman; to the right of this the esapoplectic gentlemen, with faces as cutcheon of the Lord Lyndhurst; and crimson as the curtain itself, enter the to the left of the Chancellor's chair are apartment, and bowing profoundly emblazoned the family arms of the Viceas they pass to the barristers and Chancellor Sir Lancelot Shadwell, of students, who bow profoundly to the the present Lord High Chancellor Benchers in return, pass on to their (Cottenham), and of that able and places at the table allotted to them, learned Parliamentary lawyer, the where they seat themselves, not in the Right Honourable Charles Watkin order of professional rank, but by seWilliams Wynn. niority, as Benchers of the Inn. The chaplain, or reader of the Inn, now leaves the table of the barristers, where his place is, and, going to the top of that chair to which the ambition of every eater and drinker within the body of the hall is laudably directed. Over this post of honour is placed, curiously enough, the escutcheon of a man who occupied it once, and is by no means likely to occupy it once againthe egotistical, physico-theological, melo-dramatical, Tomkinso-political, bombasto-logical schoolmaster— Immediately over these arises a canopy of fretted oak, curiously carved, and worthily sustaining an admirable picture of Paul before Festus, from the pencil of the inimitable Hogarth, who, to the honour of the Benchers be it spoken, was invited by them to dinner on the occasion of this picture being raised to its present elevationthe only instance on record, I believe, of a gentleman of another profession than the law being the guest of the Benchers, if we except Canning the statesman, King Charles the Second, James Duke of York, and Killigrew the joker, who were jointly and seve rally entertained at the expense of this Inn. This great but little-known work of a very great man, is perhaps the noblest ornament of the hall, unless the admirers of the sister art of sculpture are disposed to prefer to it the statue of Erskine, which embellishes the further extremity of the room, and which gives a lively idea not only of the features, but of the fire, of that splendid speaker. Round the hall, in various panels of the wainscoting wherewith it is encircled, are emblazoned the bearings, and inscribed the names, of distinguished members of the Inn, from the earliest periods to the present time, among which will be found the talented founders of many of our now most aristocratic families in the land, many of our greatest judges, and, though last not least, the names of Perceval and Pitt. A lofty oaken screen, grotesquely carved, encloses the hall at the lower end, and contains, within recessed panels, the royal arms, subscribed with the initials C. R., together with the escutcheons of the distinguished, witty, and jocular persons who formed the royal party on the occasion above referred to, a minute account of all the ceremonies attendant upon which I would here feel it my duty to bestow upon the patient reader, if I did not consider that the spectacle of the then Benchers of the Honourable Society of Lincoln's Inn, crawling upon their knees before their royal and jocular guests, and the honourable treasurer presenting, upon his marrow-bones, a basin and towel, with other base and disgusting prostrations then and there enacted, would rather redound to the dishonour of the Inn than to its credit, and so defeat the only end I have in view in this enquiry; to wit, the honour and glory of the law, and of all and singular the honourable members of that most honourable, not to say useful, profession. come The reader will by this time, no doubt, have observed that the hall of Lincoln's Inn is, to use the phrase of the proprietor of the Spread Eagle in the City Road, an eating-room of "the nattiest magnificence and genteelest splendour," every way worthy of the astonishing amount of "ating and of drinking" that is enacted within its hallowed walls. It is not the wallsit is not the roof-though the roof, let me observe, in spite of its dirty little lantern that lets in any thing but light, is a fine thing in its way-it is not its emblazoned windows, with their dim religious light, nor its oaken panels inscribed with the names of learned lawyers and lucky dogs, who got on because their fathers got on before them-nor its splendid statue of Lord Erskine, nor the still more splendid picture of Paul before Festus-it is not these that raise my mind to a sort of reverential, awe-struck, elevatedsubdued, how came-you- so, tumble-me feeling, with which I am ever oppressed, particularly after dinner, in the venerable hall-it is the association of ideas-the identifications of the place with the important purpose to which the place is appliedthe mingling of the pleasures of memory with the pleasures of hope-of the remembrances of the eating and drinking past, with the prospects of the eating and drinking to come-this it is that makes the hall of Lincoln's Inn classic ground, that confers upon it all its real dignity and all its indisputable glory. When left alone with a heeltap of the red-hot port in the deserted hall (for I generally sit the profession out, having, to tell the honest truth, nothing better to do), imagination usurps the throne of reason, and fills with her gay but ephemeral creations the over-heated brain; roast legs and shoulders of mutton dance fantastically through the hall; fried soles, with shrimp sauce, swim in mid-air; and the ornaments of the concave ceiling represent so many pigeon-pies. "Is this a mackerel that I see before me?" It must be so-a live baked mackerel, and on its fins and gills are gouts of parsley and butter." Beg pardon, sir, but 'tis time to shut up the hall!" observes an odious waiter, rousing me from a delicious reverie; so, starting up, I stare the waiter in the face, throw myself into a theatrical attitude, rub both eyes with both thumbs (as they do at Drury Lane), and, exclaiming with a wave of my dexter mawley, " 'Tis no such thing!" the astounded waiter, and cut like fury whip off my gown, throw my wig at out of the deserted hall. Deserted, did I say? Worshipful reader, I plead guilty, and request you I will do me the favour to fine me five shillings for being drunk. The hall, so far from being deserted, is as full as a tick-tremendous the clangour of knife, fork, and spoon-the tingling of glasses is musical. The loud and con tinual buzz, every body talking and nobody listening, is as the noise of rushing waters afar off. Now and then a loud uproarious laugh-not the loud laugh that speaks the vacant mind-but that sort of delighted chuckle that issues from the gills of a crammed turkey, rises high above the interminable clatter, like the break of the tenth wave on an Atlantic shore. As the dinner approaches to completion, and the guests to repletion, the clatter becomes more clattering, the laughter becomes louder and more robustious-the gathering of the claus-plates, dishes, knives, forks, and spoons-the rush of waiters hurrying with velocipede velocity in opposite directions, gulping the heel-taps at full speed-the jing ling of beer-glasses upon trays-the rattle of knife-boxes, crammed, like those that used their contents, to suffocation, make altogether a veritable confusion of noises, articulate and inarticulate-a confusion that Babel. could not hold a candle to; for, if it did, the confusion would put it out! How exciting is the noble emulation of generous youth, contending thus, not for fame, fortune, a mistress, a place, a pension, or any of those low and vulgar incentives to ordinary ambition-no-but for that one great, one indispensable, one all-absorbing and paramount necessity-the necessity that keeps the peasant to his spade, the tar to his tiller, the waggoner to his team, the miner to his pit, the dog to his truck, the donkey to his cart, the sweep to his chimney-top, and me to my pen the necessity of having, at least once in the four-and-twenty hours, a bellyful! How exciting, I say, is all this professional eating and drinking; but, alas, how transient is the excitement! The eating soon is over; for, as men eat in Lincoln's Inn Hall, unless they were created on the principle of certain molluscous animals, in whom the stomach and the whole body are wise? The eating is soon, too soon, only one and the same thing, how the devil do you think it could be otherover-the things to be eaten are all that is come and gone like a flash of eaten up-and as for the drinking, lightning. The fifth butler has put the decanter on the table-the decan ter was full a second ago, and it is now as empty and as fragrant as Normanby's head; and as for the winedid I say wine- 'fuit vinum”. "'Tis like the snow-flakes on the river, A moment wine, then gone for ever,' with hardly the ceremony of "wine with you, -a ceremony that is performed in Lincoln's Inn Hall with an air of vulgar hauteur, and a sulky affectation of gentility, that changes the red-hot port from blazes to vinegar! I say nothing of the quality of the wine, if wine that can properly be I called which is an admixture of bad brandy, logwood water, and tincture of kino, fifty per cent over proof, and certainly liable to the brandy duty; I say nothing of this, because I like my wine to be stiff if it be scanty; whose throats are unseasoned to swaland for the benefit of Johnny-Raws, lowing of liquid fire, there is a pump (gratis) with an iron ladle attached, in the Inn-yard; but, good Lord, sirs! the quantity-that's the thing makes me cry murder-nor am I at all surprised that, on the evening of the day made memorable by the coronation of our gracious Queen, when the Benchers |