The American Minister (and of course every representative of a foreign power) has the right to give two cards of admission, entitling the bearer of each to a seat in the Speaker’s Gallery.  But these cards admit only on a specified evening, and if not used then, are worthless.  If you have called on our distinguished representative at the Court of St. James, you have probably discovered that his list is full for the next fortnight at least, and, although the Secretary of Legation politely asks your name, and promises you the earliest opportunity, you retire with a natural feeling of disappointment.  Many Americans, having only a few days to spend in London, leave the city without making any further effort to visit the House of Commons.  It would certainly have been well to forward, in advance of your arrival in London, a written application to the Minister; but as this has not been done, what remains?  Ask your banker for a note of introduction to some member of the House, and, armed with this epistle, make your appearance in the lobby.  Give the note, with your card, to that grave, clerical-looking man in a little box on the left of the main entrance, and patiently await the approach of the “honorable gentleman.”  If the Speaker’s Gallery is not full, he will have no difficulty in procuring for you the desired admission; and if at leisure, he will undoubtedly spend a few moments in pointing out the distinguished men who may chance to be in attendance.  Be sure and carry an opera-glass.  Without this precaution, you will not be able to study to your satisfaction the faces of the members, for the House is by no means brilliantly illuminated.  If for any reason this last expedient does not succeed, must we despair for this evening?  We are on the ground, and our engagements may not leave another so good opportunity.  I have alluded to the presence of policemen in the lobby.  Do I dream, or has it been whispered to me, that half a crown, opportunely and adroitly invested, may be of substantial advantage to the waiting stranger?  But by all means insist on the Speaker’s Gallery.  The Strangers’ Gallery is less desirable for many reasons, and, being open to everybody who has a member’s order, is almost invariably crowded.  At all events, it should be reserved as a dernier resort.  As an illustration of the kindly feeling towards Americans, I may mention, parenthetically, that I have known gentlemen admitted to the Speaker’s Gallery on their simple statement to the door-keeper that they were from the United States.  On one of these occasions, the official, a civil personage, but usually grave to the verge of solemnity,—­the very last man you would have selected as capable of waggery,—­assumed a comical counterfeit of terror, and said,—­“Bless me! we must be obliging to Americans, or who knows what may come of it?”

It should be observed, however, that on a “field night” not one of the modes of admission which I have described will be of any service.  Nothing will avail you then but a place on the Speaker’s list, and even in that case you must be promptly at your post, for “First come first served” is the rule.