To see the House, as I saw it first, empty, and for the sake of its architecture and decoration, one gets a ticket by applying at the adjoining office of the Lord Chamberlain, on specified days. To attend the sessions of the House of Lords, one must possess an autograph order by a Peer. With this I was kindly supplied, not only for one night, but for four; the orders being given me in blanks, which I was permitted to fill with any dates that might best suit my convenience. It so happened that little was going on in the House of Lords while I was in London, and I did not see it to advantage. As I heard several of its most eminent members elsewhere, however, and frequently met with them in society, I had less to regret than would otherwise have been the case. In the House itself, I saw enough to familiarize me with its appearance and manners, and the rest is easily imagined, when one has before him the _Times’_ report of any particular scene. Lord Truro, sitting on the woolsack, was the first object that struck me on entering—and it was by no means a majestic one. He is a _Russell_ Chancellor, and of course no Clarendon. Shades of Somers and of Eldon, what a figure I saw in your old seat! The sight of the Bishops, in their robes, with the old Primate, in his wig, reminded me of Chatham’s appeal to “that right reverend bench, and the unsullied purity of their lawn.” Their Lordships were few in number, and among them the Bishop of Oxford was the man of mark. I doubt if he has his equal in the House for “thoughts that breathe and words that burn.” The Lords temporal were lounging about their benches, hats on or off, as chanced to be, and what little speaking I heard, was by no means such as to rouse them to particular attention. A hesitating, stuttering, and very awkward utterance would even seem to be the fashion in this noble House. I looked in vain for Lord Brougham, not because I have any great respect for him, but because one may be pardoned for trying to see such a curiosity, when it is, possibly, just under one’s nose. He has been vastly over-rated, and will soon be forgotten. In general, their Lordships looked like well-bred gentlemen, and there was about them a certain air of travel and of finish, which marks the habituated man of the world. Some of them were plainly dressed, but others were evidently men of fashion. One thing they ought to know and feel, and that is—that much is given them, and much will be required of them. No doubt every position has its qualifying disadvantages and trials; yet it must be allowed that no station in which a human being can find himself placed by his Creator, affords so many advantages, at the very outset, for usefulness and happiness in life, as that of a young English Peer of competent fortune and sound mind, with a healthful body, and a good education. What a hint for such a man is that challenge of nature’s own nobleman, St. Paul—_Who maketh thee to differ from another, and what