One can imagine how naturally Mr. Field would take to a revival of this uniform. In the Saxon Parliament he represents the St. Patrick's Division of Dublin City. He sits below the gangway, and on summer afternoons distinctly endows that portion of the House with a haze of reflective light. It is from his shirt-front, which in the matter of displayed area is, at any time before the dinner-hour, remarkable, whilst its glossiness is almost dazzling. With this snowy expanse cunningly set-off by contrast with a black necktie reposing under a turned-down collar, and with his long hair haughtily brushed back behind his ears, Mr. Field might be anything in the high art line, from a poet to a harpist. Actually he is, apart from politics, something in the victualling business. He is great at question time, and is a terror to the Chief Secretary. Having put his question and received his answer, he invariably rises, and, expanding his chest and throwing out his right arm with impressive gesture, slowly says: "Em I to understand that the right honourable gentleman means----" Here follows a supplementary question of expanse proportionate to the shirt-front. As a rule, it turns out that he is not to understand anything of the kind. But he has had his fling, and let St. Patrick know that William Field, M.P., is on the look-out tower. [Sidenote: SEVENTY YEARS AGO.] I have an engraving showing a view of the interior of the House of Commons during the Session of 1821-3. It is the old House of Commons, illumined by candles alight below the ventilator, a recess wherein ladies found their only opportunity of being present at a debate. It was, as I mentioned some time ago, out of a chink in this part of the roof that Mr. Gladstone once in the middle of an exciting debate saw a bracelet fall. It was not the habit of the House of Commons to assemble in anything like uniform, but the dress of the gentlemen of the day was much more picturesque than ours. On this night, in a Session more than seventy years dead, every member of the House wears a coat buttoned across his chest, with deep collar rising, in some cases, up to his ears. Some display shirt collars of the kind Mr. Gladstone sports to this day. They are in a few cases sustained by a black stock, more frequently by a white scarf loosely tied, in which is set a pin. For the most part the coats are cut away at the hip, the trousers are preternaturally tight, and, where top-boots are not worn outside, are strapped under the instep. [Illustration: OLD STYLE.]