The late Professor Thorold Rogers was for many years a familiar Bohemianish figure in Parliament. He had a marked individuality, a strong head and a rough tongue, an uncouth manner, sloppy attire, and his conversation was anything but refined. Still he was kind and amusing, and, for a Professor in Parliament, popular. Professors are not liked in St. Stephen's, and never a success; and as a politician Professor Thorold Rogers was no exception to this rule. It was he who introduced me to the Sergeant-at-Arms' room, that _sanctum sanctorum_ of the lively spirits of Parliament. Perhaps I ought correctly to call it Captain Gosset's room, for although Captain Gosset was the Sergeant-at-Arms, the Sergeant-at-Arms was by no means Captain Gosset. An anecdote will illustrate this. A friend of mine, a well-known journalist, travelling abroad during the Recess, fell in with Captain Gosset, and they became companions in their journey. A few days after they arrived home my journalistic acquaintance was in the Inner Lobby of the House of Commons as the Sergeant-at-Arms was passing through, and he called out, "How are you, Captain Gosset? Any the worse for your journey?" "I beg your pardon, sir, I have not the pleasure of your acquaintance. You are mistaken." "Nonsense, Captain! Why, we travelled together. I am----" "That may be, but---- Oh, I see, you are thinking of that fellow Gosset. Sir, I am the Sergeant-at-Arms!" And he strode off with the greatest dignity. I was agreeably surprised when I was introduced to the "Black Beetle." [Illustration: THE BLACK BEETLE.] "Here is Harry Furniss, Gosset" (not Sergeant, I observed); "now give it to him." "Delighted to make your acquaintance, Mr. Furniss. You see how I appreciate your work." And he pointed to a row of black beetles, cut out of _Punch_ and pasted on the wall, the rest of the wall being covered with interesting and dignified portraits of Members. Here was Gosset at twelve o'clock at night. At twelve noon he would be Sergeant-at-Arms, with power to take me to the Clock Tower. [Illustration: THE SERGEANT-AT-ARMS' ROOM. _From "Punch."_] This room is still the Sergeant-at-Arms' office, but in it are no portraits, no black beetles--on paper; there may be some living specimens, for aught I know, haunting the old room in search of the lively company, the pipes, and the huge decanters. The present Sergeant-at-Arms is as unlike a black beetle as he is unlike the Bohemian Gosset. But I shall be surprised if, when the courteous and universally appreciated Sergeant-at-Arms retires, and the present Assistant Sergeant-at-Arms, Mr. Gosset, takes his place, we shall not see the old room again the most entertaining spot in the Houses of Parliament. When Professor Rogers was escorting me to the famous room, he implored me to leave politics outside of it,--as if I ever talked politics in the House! "Rule is--no politics, so don't forget it."