nians, whether in office or languishing on the bleak benches of
opposition, are alike undistinguishable, for they have an official knack
of pulling the hat over the eyebrow, so as completely to obscure the
face, and from the gallery you can scarce tell one from the other, with
the exception of Sir G. W. Hayter, who has always a mysterious air, and
Wilson of the _Economist_, who rejoices in carroty, and consequently
unlovely locks. On the same side of the House, but below the gangway,
are the Irish ultras and tenant leaguers, a band once formidable; but
Lucas dead, Duffy seeking on another arena the position denied him here,
Bowyer, bearded and red-haired, little better than the mouthpiece of
Ultramontanism--that small party are little feared and little courted
now. Below the gangway is the balance of power, where sit, on the first
bench on the floor, on the right, Roebuck and Lord John Russell; the
Manchester party (for, in spite of Manchester's ignoble denial of the
same, there is still a policy known as of Manchester) are close behind.
The Peelites and the eccentricities sit on the other side. Bright and
Gibson represent the Gracchi. What Gladstone and Sidney Herbert and Sir
James Graham represent, it is hard to say; yet in that great assembly you
shall not find three abler men.

But we have been already some time in the House. Hours have come and
gone--day has faded into night. Suddenly, from the painted glass ceiling
above, a mellow light has streamed down upon us all. Rich velvet
curtains have been drawn across the gorgeously painted windows, and if we
had only good speeches to listen to, we should be very comfortable
indeed. Alas, alas, there is no help for us! As soon as "Wishy" sits
down, "Washy" gets up; and members thin off, leaving scarcely forty in
the House. Nor can we wonder at this. Men must dine once in the
twenty-four hours, and members of the House of Commons obey this
universal law. Most of them have been hard at work all the day. It is
no very pleasant life theirs, after all; crowded committee rooms all day,
and the heated air of the House all night. An M.P. should have an iron
frame as Joseph Hume had, or he cannot do his duty to his country or his
constituents. Even we grow, as we sit in the gallery a few hours, weary
as Mariana in the moated grange. Would that we were with the wife of our
bosom at home! Would that we were listening to the child-like prattle
and silver laugh of Rose