The court, consisting of the Lord Chancellor in gown and full bottomed wig, and perhaps of five judges, in ordinary clothing, sit at the floor level, and therefore considerably lower than counsel in the elevated box. They are not placed in a row nor behind any bench or table. On the contrary, though the presiding Lord Chancellor is vis-a-vis to the counsel box, the others sit where they please. Sometimes this is on the front row of benches and sometimes on one of the higher tiers, with a foot propped up, perhaps, on the bench in front, and their thumbs hitched to the armholes of their waist-coats, and, necessarily, with their sides to the speaker. The members of the court often have portable tables in front of them, piled with books and papers. During the course of an argument they constantly debate with each other across the House, or walk over to one of their colleagues with some document or a book and talk of the case audibly and perfectly freely. One may hear one of them, in a salt and pepper suit, call across the floor to another Lord of Appeal who has interrupted a barrister's argument, "I say, can't you give the man a chance to say what he's got to say?" These little circumstances show that judges and counsel in the appellate courts of England behave as natural men without the slightest restraint, formality or self-consciousness. Arguments are delivered with surprising rapidity of utterance, in a conversational tone, and with a crispness of articulation altogether delightful to the ear. The drawling style of speech sometimes heard on the stage as typical of a certain kind of Englishman, seems to have disappeared in real life; it certainly is not to be found in the Courts. An American stenographer reporting an English argument, would have to increase his accustomed speed at least one-third. The methods of the Divisional Court are the same as those of the Court of Appeal, but the low limit of its jurisdiction renders it of little interest.