and to the purpose, rises, the most perfect silence reigns, and his
friends and admirers, one after another, make their approbation
known by calling out, "Hear him," which is often repeated by the
whole House at once; and in this way so much noise is often made
that the speaker is frequently interrupted by this same emphatic
"Hear him." Notwithstanding which, this calling out is always
regarded as a great encouragement; and I have often observed that
one who began with some diffidence, and even somewhat
inauspiciously, has in the end been so animated that he has spoken
with a torrent of eloquence.

As all speeches are directed to the Speaker, all the members always
preface their speeches with "Sir" and he, on being thus addressed,
generally moves his hat a little, but immediately puts it on again.
This "Sir" is often introduced in the course of their speeches, and
serves to connect what is said. It seems also to stand the orator
in some stead when any one's memory fails him, or he is otherwise at
a loss for matter. For while he is saying "Sir," and has thus
obtained a little pause, he recollects what is to follow. Yet I
have sometimes seen some members draw a kind of memorandum-book out
of their pockets, like a candidate who is at a loss in his sermon.
This is the only instance in which a member of the British
parliament seems to read his speeches.

The first day that I was at the House of Commons an English
gentleman who sat next to me in the gallery very obligingly pointed
out to me the principal members, such as Fox, Burke, Rigby, etc.,
all of whom I heard speak. The debate happened to be whether,
besides being made a peer, any other specific reward should be
bestowed by the nation on their gallant admiral Rodney. In the