At length the Crown purchased General Wilford’s house and the land adjoining it, whereon the Rotunda formerly stood, for the use of Chelsea Hospital, and when Lord John Russell (now Earl Russell) became Paymaster-General, he caused the Ranelagh field, which was near the river, to be laid out into portions or lots, for the old men to occupy, each as his private garden. The remaining portion of the land of Ranelagh, on the east, has since been added to the Hospital Gardens, and presents one of the most picturesque specimens of gardening in the vicinity of London. To these gardens the public have free access. Along the side of them there is an excellent road leading to the Suspension Bridge, and on the opposite side a splendid range of Barracks erected within the last few years. THE ORIGINAL CHELSEA BUNHOUSE. Chelsea was famous for its buns from the commencement of the last century. Swift, who lodged in Church Lane (street), and used to walk to and from town, “two good miles, and just 5748 steps,” writes to Stella, in 1712, “Pray, are not they fine buns sold here in our town? * * * Was it not r-r-r-r-r-r rare Chelsea buns? I bought one in my walk.” This old bunhouse was a rather long building of one storey, with a colonnade in front, projecting over the pavement, the dwelling-house attached to it standing in the rear, with a large and well-kept garden behind it. It was situated in what was called Grosvenor Row, known as such at the time the bunhouse was pulled down, the site of which is a little eastward beyond the boundary line of this parish, and not far distant from Chelsea Hospital. George II. and Queen Caroline, and the princesses, bought buns here; as did George III. and Queen Charlotte, who presented to the proprietor a silver half gallon mug, and five guineas in it. Here, on Good Friday morning, £250 has been taken for buns; and so lately as 1839 no less than 240,000 buns were sold here on Good Friday. This may appear to many an incredulous number; but few persons at the present time can form an adequate idea of the immense demand for them. * * * * * The Rev. J. B. Owen, of St. Jude’s, Chelsea, in one of his admirable lectures, delivered in 1860, humourously observed, “There is no poetry more delicate, nor was street music more popular, than the old bellman’s cry—‘Smoking hot, piping hot, Chelsea buns!’ Picture the enthusiasm of a local rhymer thus immortalising the article:— O flour of the ovens! a zephyr in paste! Fragrant as honey, and sweeter in taste! Hail to the bellman, who sings as he runs, ‘Smoking hot, piping hot, Chelsea buns!’ As flaky and white as if baked by the light, As the flesh of an infant, soft, doughy, and slight; The public devour thee like Goths and Huns, ‘Smoking hot, piping hot, Chelsea buns!’