Sunset came, and still the fight went on; the gas was lit, the crowd in the galleries began to thin, but the contest continued; the crowd returned, by and by, with hunger and thirst appeased, and aggravated the hungry and thirsty House by looking contented and comfortable; but still the wrangle lost nothing of its bitterness.  Recesses were moved plaintively by the opposition, and invariably voted down by the University army.

At midnight the House presented a spectacle calculated to interest a stranger.  The great galleries were still thronged—­though only with men, now; the bright colors that had made them look like hanging gardens were gone, with the ladies.  The reporters’ gallery, was merely occupied by one or two watchful sentinels of the quill-driving guild; the main body cared nothing for a debate that had dwindled to a mere vaporing of dull speakers and now and then a brief quarrel over a point of order; but there was an unusually large attendance of journalists in the reporters’ waiting-room, chatting, smoking, and keeping on the ‘qui vive’ for the general irruption of the Congressional volcano that must come when the time was ripe for it.  Senator Dilworthy and Philip were in the Diplomatic Gallery; Washington sat in the public gallery, and Col.  Sellers was, not far away.  The Colonel had been flying about the corridors and button-holing Congressmen all the evening, and believed that he had accomplished a world of valuable service; but fatigue was telling upon him, now, and he was quiet and speechless—­for once.  Below, a few Senators lounged upon the sofas set apart for visitors, and talked with idle Congressmen.  A dreary member was speaking; the presiding officer was nodding; here and there little knots of members stood in the aisles, whispering together; all about the House others sat in all the various attitudes that express weariness; some, tilted back, had one or more legs disposed upon their desks; some sharpened pencils indolently; some scribbled aimlessly; some yawned and stretched; a great many lay upon their breasts upon the desks, sound asleep and gently snoring.  The flooding gaslight from the fancifully wrought roof poured down upon the tranquil scene.  Hardly a sound disturbed the stillness, save the monotonous eloquence of the gentleman who occupied the floor.  Now and then a warrior of the opposition broke down under the pressure, gave it up, and went home.

Mr. Buckstone began to think it might be safe, now, to “proceed to business.”  He consulted with Trollop and one or two others.  Senator Dilworthy descended to the floor of the House and they went to meet him.  After a brief comparison of notes, the Congressmen sought their seats and sent pages about the House with messages to friends.  These latter instantly roused up, yawned, and began to look alert.  The moment the floor was unoccupied, Mr. Buckstone rose, with an injured look, and said it was evident that the opponents of the bill were