falling upon the Speaker's shoulders was cruelly heavy. His voice
was always ringing in my ears exactly as does the voice of the
croupier at a gambling-table, who goes on declaring and explaining
the results of the game, and who generally does so in sharp, loud,
ringing tones, from which all interest in the proceeding itself
seems to be excluded. It was just so with the Speaker in the House
of Representatives. The debate was always full of interruptions;
but on every interruption the Speaker asked the gentleman
interrupted whether he would consent to be so treated. "The
gentleman from Indiana has the floor." "The gentleman from Ohio
wishes to ask the gentleman from Indiana a question." "The
gentleman from Indiana gives permission." "The gentleman from
Ohio!"--these last words being a summons to him of Ohio to get up
and ask his question. "The gentleman from Pennsylvania rises to
order." "The gentleman from Pennsylvania is in order." And then
the House seems always to be voting, and the Speaker is always
putting the question. "The gentlemen who agree to the amendment
will say Aye." Not a sound is heard. "The gentlemen who oppose the
amendment will say No." Again not a sound. "The Ayes have it,"
says the Speaker, and then he goes on again. All this he does with
amazing rapidity, and is always at it with the same hard, quick,
ringing, uninterested voice. The gentleman whom I saw in the chair
was very clever, and quite up to the task. But as for dignity--!
Perhaps it might be found that any great accession of dignity would
impede the celerity of the work to be done, and that a closer copy
of the British model might not on the whole increase the efficiency
of the American machine.

When any matter of real interest occasioned a vote, the ayes and
noes would be given aloud; and then, if there were a doubt arising