The entrance to the House of Commons is through Westminster Hall.  What wealth of historical recollections is suggested by this name!  As, however, we are dealing with the present, we dare not even touch upon so fruitful a theme, but must hasten through the grand old hall, remarking only in passing that it is supposed to have been originally built in 1097, and was rebuilt by Richard II. in 1398.  With a single exception,—­the Hall of Justice in Padua,—­it is the largest apartment unsupported by pillars in the world.  Reluctantly leaving this historical ground, we enter St. Stephen’s Hall.  This room, rich in architectural ornaments and most graceful in its proportions, is still further adorned with statues of “men who rose to eminence by the eloquence and abilities they displayed in the House of Commons.”  Who will dispute their claims to this distinction?  The names selected for such honorable immortality are Selden, Hampden, Falkland, Lord Clarendon, Lord Somers, Sir Robert Walpole, Lord Chatham, Lord Mansfield, Burke, Fox, Pitt, and Grattan.

We have now reached the Great Central Hall, out of which open two corridors, one of which leads to the lobby of the House of Lords.  Passing through the other, we find ourselves in the lobby of the House of Commons.  Here we must pause and look about us.  We are in a large apartment brilliantly lighted and richly decorated.  As we stand with our backs to the Great Central Hall, the passage-way to the right conducts to the library and refreshment rooms, that on the left is the private entrance of the members through the old cloisters, of Stephen’s, that in front is the main entrance to the floor of the House.  In the corner on our right is a small table, garnished with all the materials for a cold lunch for the use of those members who have no time for a more substantial meal in the dining-room.  Stimulants of various kinds are not wanting; but the habits of Englishmen and the presence of vigilant policemen prevent any abuse of this privilege.  The refreshments thus provided are open to all, and in this qualified sense I may say that I have lunched with Disraeli, Lord John Russell, and Lord Palmerston.

But the hour has nearly come for opening the debate; members are rapidly arriving and taking their seats, and we shall do well to decide upon the best mode of gaining admission to the House.  There are a few benches on the floor reserved, as of right, for peers and their sons, and, by courtesy, for gentlemen introduced by them.  I may be pardoned for presuming that this high privilege is beyond our reach.  Our only alternative, then, is the galleries.  These are, the Speaker’s Gallery, on the south side of the House, and directly opposite the Speaker’s chair, affording room for between twenty and thirty, and the Strangers’ Gallery, behind this, with seats for about sixty.  Visitors have only these limited accommodations.  The arrangement deprives members of all temptation to “speak to the galleries,” and is consistent with the English theory, that all debates in the House should be strictly of a business character.  And as to anything like applause on the part of the spectators, what punishment known to any criminal code among civilized nations would be too severe for such an offence?