rap in his pocket, might be excused such cynicism; but it does not become
an elderly religious gentleman, well shaven--with clean linen, and a good
estate. The House of Commons is a mixed assembly. It contains the fool
of quality--the Beotian squire--the needy adventurer--the unprincipled
charlatan; but these men do not rule it--do not form its opinion--do not
have much influence in it. It is an assembly right in the main.
Practically it consists of well-endowed, well-informed business men--men
with little enthusiasm, but with plenty of common sense, and with more
than average intellect, integrity, and wealth. Still more may be said.
All that is great in our land is there. It boasts the brightest names in
literature, in eloquence, and in law. Our island-mother has no more
distinguished sons than those whose names we see figuring day by day in
the division lists. Nowhere can a man see an assembly more honourable,
more to be held in honour, for all that men do honour, than the British
House of Commons, to which we now propose to introduce the reader.

We suppose it to be the night of an important debate, and that we have an
order for the Strangers' Gallery. As the gallery will not hold more than
seventy, and as each member may give an order, it is very clear that at
four, when it will be thrown open, there will be more waiting for
admission than the place can possibly contain, and that our only chance
of getting in will be by being there as early as possible. When Mr.
Gladstone brought forward the Budget, for instance, there were strangers
waiting for admission as early as ten in the morning. We go down about
one, and are immediately directed to a low, dark cellar, with but little
light, save what comes from a fire, that makes the place anything but
refreshingly cool or pleasant. Being of a stoical turn, we bear our lot
in patience, not, however, without thinking that the Commons might behave
more respectfully to the sovereign people, than by consigning them to
this horrid blackhole. It is in vain we try to read--it is too dark for
that; or to talk--the atmosphere is too oppressive even for that slight
exertion; and so we wile away the time in a gentle reverie. As soon as
this room is full, the rest of the strangers are put into the custody of
the police in St. Stephen's hall. That is a far pleasanter place to wait
in, for there is a continual passing to and fro of lords and lawyers, and
M.P.'s and parliament