During the troubled reign of James II., and during the first year of that of William III., men's minds were too harassed by political anxieties to allow them much time, or indeed inclination, to indulge in such costly and somewhat tedious entertainments. Money was scarce in England, and the few who had any, cautiously concealed even the semblance of riches, not knowing what changes a few years might produce. Who, indeed, could predict with reasonable probability what King would rule over the land, or, indeed, which Church would gain the supremacy? From this period these masques fell into disrepute, and the last record of so many gay revels is in 1773, on the occasion of Mr. Talbot being elevated to the woolsack. After a long and elaborate dinner, every member of each mess had a flask of claret, besides the usual allowance of port and sack. The Benchers then all assembled in the Great Hall, and a large ring was formed round the fireplace, when the Master of the Revels taking the Lord Chancellor by the right hand, he with his left took Mr. Justice Page, who, joined to the other Serjeants and Benchers, danced about the coal fire according to the old ceremony three times, while the ancient song, accompanied with music, was sung by one Tony Aston, dressed as a barrister. It is difficult to understand so dignified a personage as the Lord High Chancellor inaugurating his accession to office by such an after-dinner dance. Perhaps the extra flask of claret, following the usual port wine and sack, may have had something to do with so singular a proceeding. At any rate, after this remarkable festival, all such hilarious proceedings ceased, and henceforward the great dinners were given with all befitting and solemn dignity. If the grand old Hall may be deemed the heart of Gray's Inn, then the jewelled crown that is the noblest ornament of this time-honoured abode of learning may be said to have been created by the distinguished men who have grown up under her fostering care, whose studies have been matured within the shelter of her old walls. Names are inscribed here--on the panels, on the windows, in the hall--the very sight of which must fire the heart of many a student with pride and hope. However poor he may be, however lowly his birth, however destitute he may be of everything, save of the divine spark of genius and of that safest attendant upon genius--resolute perseverance--the path of success is open to him. The Temple of Fame is before him. He may seize the prize it contains, if he will; but the road is steep and hard to climb, and the thorns that beset it are many and sharp. What stories might be told of the early struggles, of the early hardships of many of those who have ultimately attained the highest places in the State and in the Law! How many of those whose names will never die while England has a history, might relate how keen, nay, how terrible had been their sufferings when they first started in their career.