It is not alone to “strangers” who have offended the dignity and majesty of the House of Commons that the Serjeant-at-Arms is an awe-inspiring personage. Even the representatives of the people may have occasion to shiver at the dread touch of his hand on their shoulder. Of the large number of new Members returned at a General Election few are probably aware of the fact (which, indeed, is not generally known even to old Members) that the Clock Tower contains a suite of rooms for the confinement of representatives who may be pronounced guilty by the House of some serious breach of its privileges or some outrage on its decorum. A Member of Parliament arrested on the warrant of the Speaker was formerly sent, like strangers guilty of breaches of privilege, to Newgate or to the Tower. But in the building of the Palace of Westminster prison accommodation was specially provided for Members and strangers committed by the House to the custody of the Serjeant-at-Arms. The prison of the House of Commons is not, however, a dungeon vile, deep down below the vaults of the Palace, a dark and slimy place into which the light of day never enters. It is situated about half-way up the Clock Tower, and under the home of that popular London celebrity, Big Ben, probably the best known clock in the whole world. There are two suites of apartments, each consisting of two bedrooms—one for the prisoner and the other for one of the Serjeant-at-Arms’ messengers, who acts as gaoler—and a sitting-room. There is, therefore, accommodation for two prisoners and two gaolers in the Clock Tower, which so far has been found more than sufficient. Access to these rooms is obtained only through the residence of the Serjeant-at-Arms, who is responsible for the safe keeping of a prisoner of Parliament. Their windows command a view of the Thames and Westminster Bridge on one side and of Palace Yard on the other. Imprisonment under any conditions is, perhaps, an undesirable position, but it must be said that in the Clock Tower it is deprived of all its terrors and most of its inconveniences. The prisoner may rise when he pleases; his meals are supplied from the catering department of the House of Commons, and he can have what he likes—at his own expense. After breakfast he is allowed an hour’s recreation on the terrace, accompanied by his gaoler and a police-officer in plain clothes, and he may take the air also in the evening. Should his term of imprisonment extend over Sunday, he may attend service in St. John’s Church, close to the Palace of Westminster, to which he is accompanied by his guards.