But we have lingered long enough in the Lobby.  Let us take our places in the Speaker’s Gallery,—­for the essayist has hardly less power than, according to Sydney Smith, has the novelist, and a few strokes of the pen shall show you what many have in vain longed to see.

Once there, our attention is instantly attracted by observing that almost every member, who is not speaking, wears his hat.  This, although customary, is not compulsory.  Parliamentary etiquette only insists that a member while speaking, or moving from place to place, shall be uncovered.  The gallery opposite the one in which we are seated is for the use of the reporters.  That ornamental brass trellis in the rear of the reporters, half concealing a party of ladies, is a curious compromise between what is due to traditional Parliamentary regulations and the courtesy to which the fair sex is entitled.  This relaxation of the old rules dates only from the erection of the new building.

The perfect order which prevails among members is another marked feature during the debates.  The bewigged and berobed Speaker, seated in his imposing high-backed chair, seems rather to be retained in his place out of due deference to time-honored custom than because a presiding officer is necessary to preserve proper decorum.  To be sure, demonstrations of applause at a good bit, or of discontent with a prosy speaker, are common, but anything approaching disorder is of rare occurrence.

The adherence to forms and precedents is not a little amusing.  Take, for example, a “division,” which corresponds to a call for the Ayes and Noes with us.  To select an instance at random,—­there happens this evening to be a good deal of excitement about some documents which it is alleged the Ministry dare not produce; so the minority, who oppose the bill under debate, make a great show of demanding the papers, and, not being gratified, move to adjourn the debate, with the design of postponing the passage of the obnoxious measure.

“I move that the debate be adjourned.”

“Who seconds?”

“I do.”

“Those in the affirmative,” etc., etc.

Feeble “Aye.”

Most emphatic “No.”

“The noes have it.”

“No!” “No!”

“Aye!” “Aye!”

“Divide!” “Divide!” in a perfect Babel of orderly confusion.

(Speaker, very solemnly and decidedly,)—­

“Strangers must withdraw!”

Is the gallery immediately cleared?  Not a bit of it.  Every man retains his place.  Some even seem, to my fancy, to look a sort of grim defiance at the Speaker, as a bold Briton should.  It is simply a form, which many years ago had some meaning, and, having once been used, cannot be discontinued without putting the Constitution in jeopardy.  Five times this evening, the minority, intent on postponing the debate, call for a division,—­and as many times are strangers gravely admonished to withdraw.