presently involves you in fresh explanations and
corrections. Then there is the victim of the
messengers, the part played on the occasion
of our present visit by my friend Green—the
man who is always doing what he shouldn't
do, coughing at the wrong time, and driven to
the verge of suffocation by his efforts to keep it
in under the impatient look of his companions,
and the wrathful scowl of the officials;
standing up to see who is speaking just
beneath the gallery, and being told in an
angry tone to "sit down immediately;" and,
perhaps, as a crowning enormity, being so
carried away by his feelings in the middle of
a great speech, as to give utterance to some
demonstration of applause, on which he is
only saved from ignominious expulsion by
the happy fact that the doorkeepers' indignation
is paralysed by sheer astonishment at
such unparalleled audacity.

Meanwhile, the first order of the day is in
a fair way to get disposed of. The House
having listened to several dull speakers with
exemplary patience for nearly two hours
now begin to call for a division. If the
Government are concerned in the matter some
minister gets up and says a few sentences by
way of general reply, and then comes the
division. The Speaker reads as follows:—
"The motion is that this Bill be now read a
second time: to which an amendment has
been moved to leave out the word now,
in order to substitute the words this day six
months. The question is that the word
proposed to be left out stand part of the
Question. As many as are of this opinion
say, Ay."—A shout of Ay follows.—
"As many as are of the contrary opinion
say, No." A similar shout of No follows. "I
think the Ays have it." A voice:— "The
Noes have it."—Speaker. "Strangers must
withdraw!"

As this injunction is given in a very
loud voice, with a look at the
gallery, it is not unnatural that my friend
Green, feeling himself to be undoubtedly
a stranger, and being politely anxious to
obey the Speaker's instructions, should rise to
leave the House. No sooner has he risen,
however, than an official shouts at him, "Sit
down, sir!" then in a tone of indignant
expostulation, "Will you keep your seat, sir?"

"But," whispers poor Green, "the Speaker.
—" "Sit down, sir! " Whereupon Green
sits down, fully expecting to be presently
pointed out as a recusant by the Speaker,
seized by the Serjeant-at-Arms, and carried
off to Smith O'Brien's cellar for his unwilling
act of gross disobedience. He is
comforted, however, by whispered information
that under the new regulations of last session,
strangers are now allowed to sit out a
division; that parliamentary form still compels
the Speaker to order them to withdraw, and
that the latest theory on the subject is, that
as it is supposed to be impossible for any sane
person to disobey the Speaker, so it is
concluded that his order is immediately obeyed
from the mere fact of its having been given;
in short that to parliamentary eyes, strangers
having been told to withdraw, have
withdrawn, and are absolutely not present.

Green, under this blessed arrangement,
is able to attend to the important parliamentary
process now about to take place—a
division. As soon as the Speaker has ordered
strangers to withdraw, a sand-glass is turned,
a bell is rung by electric agency in the dining
and reading-rooms, and Members may hurry
in till the last sand has run. Then the doors
are shut with a loud crash, and any lagger
who has stayed a second too long, for a last
word of his book or a last spoonful of soup,
will have to account to his constituents for
missing the division. The Speaker again
repeats the question, and adds, "The Ays to
the right and the Noes to the left: Tellers to
the right Mr. Ailey and Mr. Bailey,"—naming
two ministerial underlings, if it be a question in
which the Government is interested. "Tellers
to the left Mr. Cadger and Mr. Dadger,"—
naming the mover and seconder of the hostile
amendment. In a few moments the House is
emptied; two Tellers go to each door; and
presently the Members commence coming in
again, their names being taken down according
to their vote by the Tellers. In about a
quarter of an hour all are in again.

The Tellers having compared notes, march
up four abreast bowing to the table, where
one of them announces the numbers. "The
Ays to the right were three hundred, the
Noes to the left were one hundred and fifty."
The Speaker repeats the words, once more
puts the question, and declares "the Ays
have it."

It is now nearly seven o'clock, and the real
business of the night is about to commence.
Sir James Graham having the Naval
Estimates in his hand, moves that the Speaker
do leave the chair in order that the House may
go into Committee of Supply. The Speaker
accordingly announces, "The question is that
I do now leave the chair." Poor Speaker! To
the uninitiated this seems to be the signal of
his release: he himself knows that although
apparently so near the promised land, one
or two long nights' debate must take place
before he will be allowed to enter it.
Mr. Layard, the celebrated traveller, and
a most satisfactory personage to look at,
as looking exactly what he ought to be—
a handsome, unassuming, thoroughly straight-
forward, ardent man—will take this
opportunity of drawing the attention of the
House to the Eastern Question. This is a
common parliamentary practice, when it is
wanted to raise a discussion, yet not to arrive
at any definite result. It is out of order to
talk about nothing, with no motion before the
House; so advantage is taken of some formal
proposition—as, for instance, that the House
should adjourn—to bring on an irrelevant,
though frequently very important discussion.