The modern member's duties are by no means confined to the House of Commons, nor are they limited to the duration of the session. Formerly it would never have occurred to a member to make a speech in his constituency, once he was elected; though as a candidate he would of course address the voters, and might even be compelled to attend a banquet or a provincial dance.[73] The idea of paying a visit to the electors of any constituency other than his own would, a century ago, have been considered in the worst possible taste. Nowadays, however, the point of view is changed. No sooner has he completed his share in the arduous work of the session--the long tedious hours of debate, the wearisome attendance on committees, the continual tramping through the division lobbies--and shaken the dust of Westminster from his feet, than he must hasten to the country to give some account of his stewardship, to dazzle his constituents with the oratorical platitudes which have failed to move the more fastidious audience of the House of Commons. He must even be ready to rush off to the assistance of a fellow-member in some distant shire, and purge his bosom of the same perilous stuff upon various platforms all over the country. [73] Croker, in 1820, complains of having to attend a three o'clock dinner and dance at Bodmin, when he stood as candidate; the whole affair being, he says, "at once tiresome and foolish." "Croker Papers," vol. i. p. 166. Sir Edward Coke declared three hundred years ago that every member of Parliament should in three respects at least resemble the elephant; "first, that he hath no gall; secondly, that he is inflexible, and cannot bow; thirdly, that he is of a most ripe and perfect memory."[74] He might well have added some of the other qualities of that admirable beast--patience, docility, the capacity for hard work, and, above all, a thick skin. Though outwardly inflexible, a modern member must be prepared to bow to the wishes of his party; and in his ripe and perfect memory there should be room for the names and faces of his constituents and their wives. He must be patient when he has failed for the hundredth time to "catch the Speaker's eye"; he must be docile when the Whip urges him to vote in favour of a motion with which he disagrees fundamentally; and if he be of a thin-skinned disposition or of a delicate constitution, the labours of the House of Commons may soon prove too much for him. If he is unambitious and anxious to lead a peaceful life, he will do well to remember the advice given by Ferguson of Pitfour, who summed up his parliamentary experiences, in 1826, as follows: "I was never present at any debate I could avoid, or absent from any division I could get at. I have heard many arguments which convinced my judgment, but never one that influenced my vote. I never voted but once according to my own opinion, and that was the worst vote I ever gave. I found that the