A glance at a map of the Temple shows conclusively that it has no
connected plan. Its growth has been the outcome of the needs of many
generations during the last half-dozen centuries, and it is at present a
picturesque conglomeration of buildings of all sizes and shapes and styles,
erected with no regard for architectural beauty or symmetry, and with no
very great adaptability to their past or present use. Aside from the halls
and libraries of the two societies, the Church of St. Mary, and one or two
blocks of chambers, like Paper Buildings, there is no salient feature to
impress the eye. Yet the uniform ugliness of some of the buildings
constitutes not the least of their attractions. A hard grayish stone
frequently appears, though there are a number of brick houses so mellowed
by age that it would be difficult to name their original hue.

The chambers are frequently massed around four sides of a stone-paved
court, from which direct entrance is had to the main staircases. In some
of these flagged spaces a fountain tinkles; in others, sturdy elm- or
plane-trees tower far above the red chimney-stacks; in the centre of
another is the famous Temple pump. The several courts have distinguishing
names, such as Garden Court, Pump Court, and Brick Court, and they connect
with each other sometimes by an arched passage under the houses, at two
sides of the square, or again by narrow alleys. Nor is the same level
always preserved. Small flights of time-worn steps continually surprise us
in our pilgrimage. The aggregate--barren courts, narrow passages, and
winding lanes--forms a perfect labyrinth, very trying to a stranger or to
one possessing a poor memory for localities.

The nomenclature of certain of these Temple courts possesses a breezy,
countrified sound, utterly unsuggestive of musty tomes and special
pleadings. Thus, we have Elm-Tree Court, Vine Court, Fig-Tree Court, and