members of either house; and at the opposite end from the Speaker, are three or four rows of seats, constituting the Stranger's Gallery. Of these, only the front row affords a favorable position; and to secure a place in this, it is necessary to get a special order given on the spot, by a member to an officer of the House. This I was fortunate enough to obtain at my first and longest visit. The Irish Arms' bill was under discussion. The speeches were generally short and to the point-more like spirited conversation, with occasional sharp hits and prompt rejoinders, evincing what Pope calls "harmony not understood." The principal exception to this was an elaborate speech by Macauley, whose epigrammatic style gave edge to the weapons of argument and sarcasm with which he assailed the dominant party. Indeed the opposition had the floor the greater part of the evening, Sir Robert Peel reserving his forces till near the close, when, in a business-like fashion, without display of rhetoric, he replied to his assailants. He had the votes, and therefore was not very sensitive to mere verbal attacks. There was nothing to my eye at all remarkable in the Premier's face, figure, or manner.

The members generally seemed a little more intent on doing business, and getting through with it, than is the case at Washington. There was no "speaking to Buncombe;" no one begun with the origin of the government,-(which there, indeed, would be taking a somewhat wider range than with us,) in order to get at the subject in debate, nor was there any declaiming of bulky pamphlets to be sent off to constituents. Although the debate was on an exciting <topic, there was little disorder, with the exception of the cries "hear, hear," and certain bursts of laughter and ironical cheers, with which a pretty ardent Hibernian was greeted; though, sometimes, when the mirth "grows fast

and furious," there is no question that the House of Commons in the multitude of its strange noises and unearthly discords, bears no slight resemblance to an ill-regulated menagerie.

I left the house shortly before midnight, congratulating myself that what I lost as an auditor, I could make up at breakfast from the copious report in the "Times." So perfect is the division of labor among the newspaper reporters, one taking the place of another after a short interval, that the first half of a long speech is in type before the speaker has sat down, and a few hours after the night session has closed, the proceedings are on their way to every part of the kingdom. The circulation of the "Times" newspaper must be enormous. Its eight ample and closely printed pages, contain just what is needful to keep one apprised in brief, of all that is going on in the world, and well requite the labor of perusal.

The House of Lords is much smaller than the House of Commons, with something more of ornament. At one end is the space allotted to the throne; on the floor in front of it, the famous woolsack affords-I speak from experience -a very comfortable seat. One morning, when the House was sitting in its judicial capacity, I heard a speech of some length from Lord Brougham. At its close, he came and conversed in a very animated style, with a gentleman near me, giving me just the opportunity I wished to study his countenance and bearing. He reminded me slightly of Henry Clay. With larger and more rugged features, he has the same indescribable manner, that tells of the intellectual power lurking beneath the homely exterior. He gets hard punches, now-a-days, from "Punch," and other organs of popular sentiment. When the Lord Chancellor (Lyndhurst) spoke, he left the woolsack, and took the floor

like the other speakers, as is the etiquette, instead of speaking ex cathedra. The Twelve Judges of England, completely enveloped in black gowns, their heads buried under most portentous wigs, appeared to my irreverent eyes, a group of exceedingly grotesque figures.

Westminster Hall, in the immediate vicinity of the House of Parliament, is a grand old Gothic edifice, 270 feet long, 74 wide, and 90 high. Here Richard II. entertained 10,000 guests at his Christmas festivals; and here the Parliament met that deprived him of his crown. Here, too, Charles I. received sentence of death. The trial of Warren Hastings, which called forth the splendid oratory of Burke and Sheridan, was held in this hall. At the time of my visit, its walls were covered with Cartoons; premiums having been offered by government for the best designs for the decoration of the new Houses of Parliament, with fresco-painting. The subjects were limited to British history and the works of Spenser, Shakspeare, and Milton, and the competition was restricted to British artists; still no less than 140 cartoons were offered. Cæsar's first invasion of Britain, Caractacus led in triumph through the streets of Rome, Boadicea haranguing the ancient Britons, Canute reproving his courtiers, King John signing Magna Charta, and the execution of Lady Jane Grey, were among the more striking subjects. They may suggest to future orators as impressive allusions as did the ancient tapestry of the House of Lords to the Earl of Chatham, when he eloquently denounced the project of employing the Indians in the war against revolted America.

CHAPTER VII.

LONDON.-The Tower.-Thames Tunnel.-Rev. Messrs. Noel and Melville.-Dr. Croly.-Charitable Institutions.

THE Tower of London, the palace first, and often afterwards, the prison of royalty, is situated on the left bank of the Thames, about a mile below St. Paul's. The entire works cover twelve acres, enclosed within a strongly fortified wall, and surrounded by a moat, once filled with water, but now drained and in process of being transformed into a garden. The principal structure rises far above the rest of the fortress, and is distinguishable at a great distance by the four lofty turrets that rise from its corners. The visitor passes through four successive gates, and then along a narrow street, which runs entirely round the fortress, separating the outer from the inner ward. On the left is a tower, said to have been the prison of Queen Elizabeth, before her accession; and on the right, the "Traitor's Gate," through which State prisoners were brought by water to the Tower. "Who enters here, leaves hope behind," might well have been inscribed over the grim portal. Opposite is the "Bloody Tower," where (according to somewhat doubtful tradition,) the two infant princes were smothered by the command of their uncle, afterwards Richard III. Beyond this, is the place formerly occupied by the arsenal, destroyed by fire three years since; and near it, a church, interesting as the burial place of Anne Boleyn and Catherine Howard, the Queens of Henry VIII.; also of Lady Jane Grey and her husband, and

many other distinguished persons who suffered on Tower Hill. It seemed strange indeed, to walk among these visible and tangible memorials of histories, that had been familiar from childhood.

The Horse Armory is an apartment 150 feet long, in which is ranged a series of equestrian figures representing kings or nobles, from the reign of Edward I. to that of James II., habited in the complete armor of their times. Among numerous other curiosities is a splendid suit of armour, worn by Henry VIII. From this apartment you pass up a staircase into Queen Elizabeth's Armory. This part of the building is said to have been the prison of Sir Walter Raleigh, and a small dark closet which opens from it, his sleeping room. Here are deposited a great variety of ancient weapons, halberds, pikes, battle-axes, &c., in use before the introduction of fire arms; also a thumbscrew, and other instruments of torture, and a beheadingaxe, said to be that with which Anne Boleyn was beheaded. In the Jewel-room, in which the Regalia are deposited, I looked, till the eye tired of gazing on crowns of gold, studded with precious stones, golden sceptres, spoons, saltcellars, spurs, &c., the value of which is estimated to be between fourteen and fifteen millions of dollars.

From the Tower I went to the Thames Tunnel, completed only a few months previous. It is 1200 feet in length, consisting of two parallel arched passages, wide enough for carriages, with a narrow pathway for pedestrians. Instead of wearing the gloomy and forbidding aspect which I had anticipated, it is brilliantly lighted with gas; and although one feels rather oddly, when pausing in the middle of it, and considering that the mighty river, with its constant burden of ships, is rolling over his head, there is nothing in the appearance of things to suggest the