“‘I must see him, nevertheless,’ replied the obdurate creditor, permitting his suspicions to get the better of his judgment.  ’If you do,’ rejoined Thomas, bowing, ’you may have a longer drive than is agreeable at this season of the year.’

“‘You don’t mean to tell me that he has left?’ demanded Peppers, stamping his foot, and allowing himself to become generally excited.  ‘Now, my friend,’ Thomas replied in the coolness of his nature, making a motion to open the street door, ’just take the matter like a philosopher; don’t let such little affairs trouble a man of your standing.  The fact is, between the sundown of one day, and rosy dawn of another, our gallant Secretary just stepped out—­that is, Mr. Bolt has bolted!’ Thomas bowed him politely out, and I leave you to judge how many indignant threats were thrown out by Peppers, and what occurred when he related the climax to his fellow-creditors, who having a suspicion that all was not right, waited his appearance among them at the corner of an adjacent street, against the lamp-post of which they entered a protest deep and solemn.  My great-uncle having concluded his story, adjusted his crutch, wiped his weeping eyes, relieved his hoarseness with a small quantity of temperance bitters, and limped away.

[Note I.—­The chapter is respectfully dedicated to General Pierce.]

[Note II.—­The fastidious—­I mean those rather inclined to facts, may, to please their peculiar taste, transfer the scene of Mr. Secretary Bolt’s exploits to Paris; they may also add a date more modern.]

CHAPTER XXII.

HOW SMOOTH GOT HIS MANNERS.

“Readers, and fellow citizens of these United States in general! know ye, that I, Solomon Smooth, in the first person singular, as Uncle Sam Houston used to say, being worn out with the fatigues of the Ostend-Aix-la-Chapelle Congress, crossed the Atlantic in two steamships—­wanted to do both a good turn—­got busted up by neither—­and at last found myself calmly luxuriating in the velvet and damask of the ‘White House.’  By way of keeping up the spirit of Young America, I knocked down all the attendants, stalked in like an independent citizen who felt he was part owner of the establishment, spread myself upon the softest sofa, and demanded the flunkey, who stood trembling in the doorway, to bring me a Turkey ottoman, on which to advantageously take the measure of my extremes.  Believe me, Sam, I went it in the way of comforts.  The flunkey shook his head, and kept up a significant silence.  This was rather too much for the patience of any respectable gentleman; and being aware that the Gineral had not larned him proper manners, I got up and brought it myself.  Nor yet did it seem just the thing—­something was wanting to complete the free-and-easy, to which end I pulled out a real Havana regalia, and puffed away so comfortably.  Then I ordered the flunkey, whose hair was seen stiffening