acquainted with many singular and interesting young fellows. We used to dine at long tables, running down the old Hall. We were divided into messes of four, and the conversation was generally very brisk. What amused me most was the infinite variety of tastes that prevailed amongst the Templars. With one set, the talk would be of nothing but opera dancers and actresses. The next day with a different set, it would be of politics-of Mr. Canning's eloquence and the catholic question. Next day I would probably mess with men who could talk of nothing but Cambridge and Oxford reputations—of double firsts, and the last senior wrangler. On another day it would be an incessant gabble about the last case decided by Lord Tenterden, and of proposed new rules in pleading. again, by way of variety, the talk would be de omnibus-of triangles-Madame Vestris, and the Bishop of London.

And

One very amusing person I first met at the Temple dinners. I chanced somehow to be in the same mess with him very often, and was struck with the versatility of his mind. He talked (and right well) upon every description of subject. He had great humour and a strong propensity to satire. His reading was evidently extensive, but on all that related to English history, he was informed to an extent surprising in so very young a man. He had all the gossip of history at his fingers. He knew the life of every statesman, from Clarendon down to Charles Fox, by heart. The purposes of parties, and characters of various ages, he was thoroughly conversant with. His knowledge of family history was extraordinary; and his power of illustrating public events, by connecting them with private motives of statesman, was deeply interesting. He knew very little of foreign literature,

though he had travelled through the best part of Europe. He was very shrewd in his judgments, and had a propensity to cutting satire. He had lived rather freely, and was very familiar with the town, a circumstance which gave his conversation more slang than was quite agreeable.

But in manners and conduct

he was a perfect gentleman.

It was

His name was St. Leger, and to this day nobody knows where he came from. generally thought that he was not an Englishman; it was supposed that he was a Scotchman, and scandal whispered that he was an Irishman. There was that mixture of intellect and shrewdness in him, that led one to think he was one of those "canny," clever Scotchmen who have shewn their excellent taste in determining to reside south of the Tweed. There was a certain peculiarity in his character and manners, that gave ground

for supposing that he was not an Fnglishman; besides, he used to turn his ridicule too often against some of our prejudices, and appear even at times animated with an hostile feeling towards us. That he was an Irishman, however, was absurd to suppose. He was altogether too rational when talking of Irish subjects, for a native of the land of exaggeration.

He had great knowledge of persons, and mixed extensively in society. He had graduated at Cambridge; he knew all the clever men about the inns of court. We became acquainted with each other soon after I entered the Temple.

CHAPTER V.

MEN OF PROMISE-A LOST STAR AND A

LIVING ONE.

ONE evening, after dinner, St. Leger and I strolled together into the gardens, and lounged up and down the terrace by the river side. A great many Templars and Lincoln's Inn men were taking the air-it was June term, and the evening sun poured a flood of light over the Thames, whose surface was covered