“Seeing nothing, in Constantinople I could turn to account—­the allies were undermining the foundation of Muslamism as fast as possible—­I took a stroll to the seat of war, contenting myself with the hope that something would ultimately turn up.  The fact was, I meant to follow the policy of the Aberdeen government when starving to death one of the bravest armies that ever faced a foe.  Instead of expanding plains and undulating hills, such as Smooth had pictures to his mind in his boyhood, I found the seat of war an ungainly mud-puddle, with ramparts of savage-looking citizens menacing each other from its opposite banks.  Between these banks the amusement of war was every now and then kept up with doubtful results.  That something more than ordinary was to pay I felt assumed by the grimaces of the contending parties, and feeling a deep interest in the cause, I vaulted into the mist of a group on the left bank, so singularly mixed that their identity as allies could not be mistaken.  To the question as to what brought them there, they answered with unintelligible assertions about the issue—­the balance, of power—­the status quo of Europe, and nobody knows how many more things that were to remain unmoved.  The best that could be made of it was, that the atmosphere of kings and emperors was filled with very explosive matter which they thought it best to let off in this sort, of way.  If, according to Mr. Smooth’s philosophy, Europe were to remain in status quo, that spirit of progress so much beloved by Mr. Pierce, and his family must die, a natural death.  Was it not singular that the least discussed issue, the most prominent one of the war, according to Smooth’s opinion, was in regard to who should be the greatest toad in the European puddle?  Your European puddle is no ordinary affair; kings and emperors only dabble in it at the expense of their people.  I viewed with some interest this European cesspool.  In the centre there was seated on a pole, with his arms folded, and having an air of assumed independence, a corpulent old gentleman, whose face fused broad and red, like a full moon in harvest-time.  This very honorable gentleman had long esteemed himself the largest toad in the European puddle, and was worthily sensitive of his position, though he at times exercised it to a bad purpose.  He was notoriously square-shouldered, had beer’d a great deal during his life, and could be as obstinate as a well-fed donkey.  Indeed, he had more than once been known to put his finger in his mouth and look serious when great events demanded prompt action, but he never failed to do his part when driven into the fight.  To speak honestly, and with all deference to the feelings of this very respectable gentleman, John had no legitimate right to be thus mixed up in this squabble of European despots; nor should he have permitted himself to be led into it on the one side by that imperial transgressor, and driven on the other by his own beer-shop politicians.