The Hall of Representatives is in the south wing of the Capitol, and is similar in form and design to the Senate Chamber, being semicircular, with a gallery of twelve hundred seating capacity extending around the entire hall.

Like the Senate, the walls are white, buff, and gold, and the ceiling panels of glass, each showing in connection with a State coat of arms the cotton plant in some stage of development.

The Speaker of the House sits at a desk of pure white marble, and in front of him are several desks for the Secretary and his many assistants.

A silver plate on each desk bears the name of its occupant. As in the Senate, the Republicans occupy the left of the Speaker and the Democrats the right.

When the House is in session the mace is in an upright position at the table of the Sergeant-at-Arms on the right of the Speaker, and when the House is adjourned, or in committee of the whole, it is removed.

The mace is a bundle of ebony rods, bound together with silver bands, having on top a silver globe, surmounted by a silver eagle. In the British House of Commons the mace represents the royal authority, but in the United States it stands for the power of the people, which, tho not present in bodily form, yet is a force always to be reckoned with. The one now in the House has been in use since 1842. The Sergeant carries it before him as his symbol of office when enforcing order, or in conducting a member to the bar of the House by order of the Speaker.

The Speaker's room is across the lobby back of his chair, and is one of the most beautiful rooms in the building. It has velvet carpet, fine, carved furniture, large bookcases and mirrors, and its walls, as well as the walls of the lobby, are hung with the portraits of every Speaker, from our first Congress to the present one.

Most of the pictures in the House of Representatives with which I was familiar fifteen years ago have been removed. Now there remains but one—Brumidi's fresco representing General Washington declining the overtures of Lord Cornwallis for a two days' cessation of hostilities.

Washington, like Grant, was an "unconditional surrender" man.

Each State is entitled to a number of Representatives in Congress, proportioned upon the number of its population. The State is districted by its own State Legislature. Then the district selects its own man, who is supposed to understand its wants and needs, and elects him to represent his people for two years.

He must be twenty-five years of age, seven years a citizen of the United States, and a citizen of the State which he represents. There are about three hundred and fifty-six members and delegates. The latter represent the territories of Oklahoma, New Mexico, Arizona, and Hawaii.

Congress is an aggregate of selfish units, each fighting for his district. No doubt good influences prevail, but no one class of men, either the extremely good or the extremely bad, has the entire say, for law is the formulated average public opinion of the age and country in which it is made.

It can not be too strongly impressed upon the voters of this country that it is their duty to select good, strong, noble men with high convictions of public duty, and then to keep them in Congress term after term if they desire their district to be represented by anything more than a mere vote. Important places on committees are given men not alone in proportion to intellectual merit, but in proportion to Congressional experience. All men will not become leaders from remaining there a long time, but none will without it.

It is a wonderful thing to note the changes in the House since 1885. At that time John G. Carlisle was Speaker of the House. So fair in his rulings was Mr. Carlisle that one might spend hours in the gallery and be unable to decide which side he favored.

Samuel J. Randall and Roger Q. Mills, of Texas, were the leaders on the Democratic side, and the Mills bill concerning tariff the chief object of legislative interest before the country. Springer, of Illinois, and Breckenridge, of Kentucky; Crisp, of Georgia; Hooker and Allen, of Mississippi, were also among the leaders of the Democracy. Of these some are now out of politics, some are dead, and one disgraced.

Thomas B. Reed, of Maine, was the acknowledged leader of the Republican side, with McKinley, Cutcheon, Burrows, Boutelle, Holman, Butterworth, Henderson, Payne, Morrill, of Kansas, Negley, of Pennsylvania, and Cannon his backers.

It was great fun to see Reed come down the aisle ready to puncture the pet plans of the Democrats. In sharp, keen, extemporaneous, partisan debate he has never been excelled in this country, and possibly never in any other. No man ever appreciated his own power more accurately than he. He charged on few windmills; but when he placed himself in antagonism to a measure, it usually failed to pass, altho the Democrats had a working majority. When he became Speaker of the House, old members assured me, in spite of his name "Czar" Reed, he was not more arbitrary than either Blaine or Randall in the same position. As a presiding officer no man ever put the business of the House through more rapidly or more gracefully. He was a fine parliamentarian, quick in decisions and most able in his rulings.

My note on McKinley in 1885 says: "He can not be considered a leader, for a leader is one who can champion a party measure. This he can not do, as he is not keen in repartee—the opposition walk all over him; nor can he support a new man. He makes two or three well-prepared, eloquent speeches each year; these are usually on the tariff. He is a genial, pleasant gentleman, probably with more personal friends in the entire country than any one man now before the nation."

William C. P. Breckenridge, of Kentucky, was considered the most eloquent man for a prepared speech on the Democratic side. But it was the eloquence of a musical voice, graceful gesture, and an abundant use of adjectives, not the eloquence of deep thought. While he was speaking it was hard to believe that it was not the best speech which could possibly be made on that subject. When one read it in the Record he wondered that he had been even interested.

In December, 1889, Mr. Breckenridge lectured in Clearfield, Pennsylvania, to the Teachers' Institute. His subject was "Kentucky's Place in History."

He began by saying: "I was a rebel. I am glad of it. If I had it to do again, I would do the same thing!" Now, think of that before a Northern audience, especially in a mountain county which is always noted for patriotism. If his audience had been petrified they could not more quickly have frozen in their places.

He told the thrilling story of Kentucky in words of matchless humor and pathos. He tried fun; no one smiled. I was sitting on the platform, and the stories were so amusing I was obliged to retire to the wings, as to laugh in the face of that angry audience would have been an indignity. He tried pathos. No one melted. As he came from the stage, I said: "Colonel, you gave a most eloquent address."

"What in thunder is the matter with that audience?" he said. I replied: "When you said you did not regret being a rebel, and you would do the same again, you killed that audience so far as you were concerned."

Just at that moment Mr. Matthew Savage, the County Superintendent, came up. He flung down on the table his check for one hundred dollars, and said: "Take that, but I hope never to see your face again. I am a Democrat, and the people of this county will think I hired you to come here and talk treason. You have spoiled my chances for the Legislature." The people, however, understood the case, and it did not hurt Mr. Savage politically.