said the Times and the country were two great institutions.  ‘You!’ he spoke, advancing independently to the table, and grinning the old fogies almost out of countenance, ’have got to render an account of this game to the country! your just unequiliberizing everything; and my humble opinion is that you have got the fear fever in your heads.’  The old gentleman took it all in good part; in fact (the truth must be told at times) they seemed rather to fear and like the man of the Times, who seldom failed in getting by some mysterious process the secrets of Downing street.  However, as disturbances seldom come separate, no sooner had the man of the Times been smoothed nicely down with Downing street soft-soap, of which a never-failing supply was always at hand, than a most furious hue and cry again echoed through the old walls from another part of the house.  Alarm and anxiety darted into the face of everyone present; all eyes stared in death-like gaze in the direction from whence it came.  Smooth being in for a share of the alarm as well as the fun, looked along with the rest, when, lo! high on a seat in the corner, sat Mr. Punch, his comical face glowing through a sort of knot-hole and Toby perched on his right shoulder, growling and looking as if he wanted to bite every old fudge in the conclave. Punch, to outsecret the players, was, in a very clever sort of way, taking private notes, the subject matter of which he intended giving to his readers in a very condensed and elegant volume.  This started the players to their feet, when each seized a book, and, letting fly at Punch’s head, drove him scampering out of Downing street.

“Having got rid of Mr. Punch, and bowed the man of the Times politely out, Grandmama Fudge, in a strong Scotch brogue, said, ’Nu, luds, let us gang awa to the crumpets—­bring ‘um hither, mya bullies!’ He drew a sort of simple contortion over his broad, hard face, and mouthed his lips, as if he would the amplest dough-nut be put on his plate.  Palm, just as they were resuming their seats, insinuated that as the venerable old man was well gone in his dotage, he had better measure his diet somewhat after the judicious character of his diplomacy, which was celebrated for its small doses crookedly doled out.  The dish was again removed, mouths began to water, eager eyes glanced upon the steaming viands, giving out their strong glows and unsavory smells.  This incited dither strong, on calling the two cooks its, after many and tedious interrogatories, confessed, in fear and trembling, that Grandmama Fudge had strictly ordered them fried in grease of the Russian Bear, an animal for which he entertained a curious sympathy.  And here it was observed, with no very commendable emphasis, that the precious old dote had a particular partiality for Bruin’s dominions, nor could be driven from the strange hallucination.  Another minute and the poor old man was in the most alarming state of mind