Usually, the Senate is as staid as the House is uproarious. All routine business is transacted there “by unanimous consent”; it is only when some really important issue arises that the Senators quarrel publicly. When a serious debate is on, there is no commotion: every Senator who wishes to speak sends his name to the presiding officer, or rises during a lull and announces his purpose of addressing the Senate on a specified day. The rest of the Senators respect his privilege, and, if he is a man of consequence, a goodly proportion of them will be in their seats to hear him. If a Senator is absent from the chamber when a matter arises which might concern him, some one is apt to suggest deferring its consideration till he can be present. It is the same way with appointments to office which require confirmation by the Senate: a Senator objecting to a candidate nominated from his State can count upon abundant support from his fellow Senators, every one of whom realizes that it may be his turn next to need support in a similar contingency. This is what is called “Senatorial courtesy.” So well is it understood that no unfair advantage will be taken of any one’s absence, that the attendance in the chamber sometimes becomes very thin. An instance is often cited when the Vice-president, discovering only one person on the floor at the beginning of a day’s session, rapped with his gavel and solemnly announced: “The Senator from Massachusetts will be in order!” The strong contrast between the two chambers has existed ever since the creation of Congress. This is not wonderful when we reflect that the Senate was for a long time made up of men chosen by the State legislatures from a social class well removed from the masses of the people, and that they held office for a six-year term, thus lording it over the members of the House of Representatives, who, besides being drawn directly from the rank and file of the body politic, had to struggle for reëlection every two years. In the early days, the Senators were noted for their rich attire and their great gravity of manner; whereas most of the Representatives persisted, while sitting in the House during the debates, in wearing their big cocked hats set “fore and aft” on their heads. Whether the Senate sat covered or bareheaded for the first few years of its existence, we have only indirect evidence, as it then kept its doors closed against everybody, even members of the House. Little by little a more liberal spirit asserted itself, until the doors were opened to the public for a certain part of every morning, with the proviso that they should be closed whenever the subjects of discussion seemed to require secrecy. By common consent, these subjects were limited to certain classes of business proposed by the President, like the ratification of treaties and the confirmation of appointments to office. Such matters remain confidential to this day, and the Senate