This being disposed of, the Speaker rises and says: “The Clerk will now proceed to read the Orders of the Day,” and the Clerk, with a copy of the Order Paper in his hand, reads the title of the first of the list of Bills down for consideration. It may be the second reading or the third reading stage, at which, on all great Bills, there is usually a big debate. Disraeli is said to have described the House of Commons as a dull place, with some great moments. In my opinion, it would be difficult for the House of Commons ever to be downright dull. Its great moments are, indeed, many. The variety and vitality of the questions at issue there and its personalities secure it against tediousness. For Disraeli—as for most of those who have once breathed its intoxicating atmosphere—it always had an absorbing charm. Joseph Gilles Biggar, one of the best known of the Irish Party, lived in the House and for the House. Outside it he had no interest or amusement. I happened to be talking to him in the Lobby during a sitting that was supposed to be dull, when a colleague asked him whether he might go to a theatre for the evening. Biggar was then the Chief Whip of the Nationalist Party, and a stern martinet. “Theatre!” he exclaimed contemptuously. “This is better than a play, Mister. It is all real here.” Yet he was the man who, by the invention of obstruction, and its use, did most violence to its time-honoured and dearly cherished customs. The House of Commons is, indeed, a most alluring place. It has an interest of the highest dramatic intensity on the occasion of a big debate relating to the predominant political question of the day, which deeply stirs Party passions and prejudices, and brings down into the arena of the floor the great chiefs to fight for principle with the keen and subtle weapon of the tongue.