back again, to move the adjournment; and a great many other anecdotes of
a similar description.

There he stands, leaning on his stick; looking at the throng of
Exquisites around him with most profound contempt; and conjuring up,
before his mind's eye, the scenes he beheld in the old House, in days
gone by, when his own feelings were fresher and brighter, and when, as he
imagines, wit, talent, and patriotism flourished more brightly too.

You are curious to know who that young man in the rough great-coat is,
who has accosted every Member who has entered the House since we have
been standing here. He is not a Member; he is only an 'hereditary
bondsman,' or, in other words, an Irish correspondent of an Irish
newspaper, who has just procured his forty-second frank from a Member
whom he never saw in his life before. There he goes again--another!
Bless the man, he has his hat and pockets full already.

We will try our fortune at the Strangers' gallery, though the nature of
the debate encourages very little hope of success. What on earth are you
about? Holding up your order as if it were a talisman at whose command
the wicket would fly open? Nonsense. Just preserve the order for an
autograph, if it be worth keeping at all, and make your appearance at the
door with your thumb and forefinger expressively inserted in your
waistcoat-pocket. This tall stout man in black is the door-keeper. 'Any
room?' 'Not an inch--two or three dozen gentlemen waiting down-stairs on
the chance of somebody's going out.' Pull out your purse--'Are you
_quite_ sure there's no room?'--'I'll go and look,' replies the
door-keeper, with a wistful glance at your purse, 'but I'm afraid there's
not.' He returns, and with real feeling assures you that it is morally
impossible to get near the gallery. It is of no use waiting. When you
are refused admission into the Strangers' gallery at the House of
Commons, under such circumstances, you may return home thoroughly
satisfied that the place must be remarkably full indeed. {122}

Retracing our steps through the long passage, descending the stairs, and
crossing Palace-yard, we halt at a small temporary doorway adjoining the
King's entrance to the House of Lords. The order of the serjeant-at-arms
will admit you into the Reporters' gallery, from whence you can obtain a
tolerably good view of the House. Take care of the stairs, they are none
of the best; through this little wicket--there. As soon as