Mr. Martin belonged to the Irish party, parliamentary _sapeurs_ to whom nothing is sacred. Of English members, the first to break the traditions of the House in this matter was Mr. Joseph Cowen. In the course of an already distinguished career, he had never possessed a top-hat, and even the honour of representing Newcastle in Parliament could not drive him to alter the fashion of his head-gear. But like John Martin, he, whilst pleasing his own fancy, was careful not to offend the prejudices of others. He always entered the House bareheaded, and so sat throughout a debate, his broad-brimmed, soft felt hat not being donned till he had passed the doors. At this day the Speaker looking round a moderately full House will see half-a-dozen top-hats of various ages and shades of colour fearlessly worn. Mr. Keir Hardie, desiring to go one better in the effort to flout "the classes," was obliged to come down in a greasy tweed cap. [Sidenote: KAMARBANDS.] The exceptionally hot summer of last year gave opportunity for fresh lapse from the decent gravity of dress in the House of Commons. It was Lord Wolmer who first flashed a kamarband within sight of the astonished Mace, a circumstance that made resistance hopeless. Had the fashion been adventured by some frisky but inconsiderable new member, it might have been frowned down before it had time to spread. But when the thing was seen round the moderately slim waist of the son, not only of an ex-Lord Chancellor, but of the gravest-mannered peer in the House of Lords, all was lost. Mr. Austen Chamberlain promptly followed suit; Mr. McArthur seized the opportunity to display an arrangement in silk of the Maori colours. The Irish members, determined that ordinarily slighted Ireland should not lag behind, met in Committee Room No. 15, and subscribed a shilling each to purchase a brilliant green kamarband for their Whip, Sir Thomas Esmonde. The fashion spread till, looked upon at question time of a summer afternoon, the House in the aggregate presented something of the appearance of a crazy quilt. The Front Opposition Bench had already succumbed to the epidemic. Every day when the House met members turned instinctively towards the Treasury Bench to see if Sir William Harcourt and the Solicitor-General had yielded to the prevailing influence. Happily before that befell the weather changed, the thermometer fell, and waistcoats were worn again. [Illustration: LORD WOLMER'S KAMARBAND.] [Sidenote: THE HOUSE OF LORDS.] Whilst members of the House of Commons have no special dress even for gala days, the House of Lords cherishes the immemorial custom of wearing robes on State occasions. Whenever a new peer takes his seat, not only is he robed himself, but is the cause of robing in others. The peers who introduce him are clad in raiment of scarlet cloth, slashed with ermine in varying fashion, indicating their rank in the Peerage. With them comes Garter King-at-Arms, the Royal Arms of England embroidered on his back.