Although the old "memories" that float about Fleet-street would fill a volume, we must not pass on without glancing at St. Dunstan's Church, though it is a new building, and the figures, so often gazed on in "wonderment" by the gaping crowds of other days, no longer step out in their wonted place to strike the hours. For the origin of these wooden "puppets," see Douglas Jerrold's _St. James's and St. Giles's_, in which he reads as severe a lecture to hard-hearted overseers as the old ballad of _The Babes in the Wood_ does to "wicked uncles." Before the statue of Queen Elizabeth, which stands over the doorway fronting Fleet-street, a poor simple-hearted Irishwoman was one morning, not long ago, observed kneeling, and repeating her prayers: she mistook it for the figure of the Virgin. This statue is supposed to be the only relic preserved when Ludgate (one of the city-gates that stood on Ludgate-hill,) was taken down in 1760. It ornamented the old church of St. Dunstan, as it now does the present one. Nor must we omit a word or two before we pass through Temple-Bar about the Cock Tavern, to which our living poet laureate Alfred Tennyson does "most resort," according to his own confession, in "Will Waterproof's lyrical monologue made at the Cock," in an old box "larded with the steam Of thirty thousand dinners." Many of the old taverns in Fleet-street--Dr. Johnson's favourite "Mitre" for example--have rich recollections of the wit and wisdom of the wits and sages of former days. With many of these our readers are doubtless familiar, but they perhaps never heard of the "Cock" before reading Tennyson's poems. Nevertheless there is a fact in the history of this old tavern worth knowing. The bird that gives name to this "haunt of hungry sinners" was, according to our laureate, "Of a larger egg Than modern poultry drop, Stepped forward on a firmer leg, And crammed a plumper crop." He was, indeed, a regal fowl, for he not only coined copper money, but stamped it with his own effigy and circulated it amongst his customers in the form of tokens. If a man who had newly dined required change out of the money for his dinner, he received it, not in pence, but in copper cocks, which were afterwards duly honoured by the worthy landlord, who gave to their bearer full value in generous food and liquor. This currency was so extensive that when, during the ravages of the Great Plague in London, the door of the Cock was closed, "when the plump head waiter" and all other subordinates were dismissed, and the landlord had fled to the country to escape the scourge, public notice was given of the time when the house would be again opened, and that the copper tokens would be duly honoured. One of these is still carefully preserved as "a relic of the olden time."