that could be imagined; the largest dough-nut on the platter had stuck half-way down his throat.  To relieve himself of his unsuccessful attempt at swallowing things beyond his capacity, he called lustily for Palm, who, unfortunately, had left in disgust, the stench of Bear’s grease being too strong for his capricious organs.  ’He! he! he! ah mun, I doe believe to heaven it’s all up—­I doe!’ gurgled the old man, struggling in spasmodic efforts to get the thing up or down.  ‘If I die,’ he continued, ’with this lump of indecision in my throat, the consequences will be that no man will mourn over me.’  Littlejohn, always ready to move as occasion required, sprung to his aid, crying ’Swallow it! swallow it! for the honor of Young England swallow it!  If it comes up you’re a dead premier:  dead without a doctor.’  The whole thing now became a complex confusion; no one knew how to unconfuse it.  It was a sad mistake having its origin only in the want of the age’s appliances to our day and its circumstances; he had attempted a nut he had not capacity to swallow.  A dozen voices cried out ‘Bring in the doctor.’ and as many more said the case was a desperate one.  Some run one way; some run another; ’and some never moved.  Downing street was in tribulation.  Then everybody ran in everybody’s way; nobody knew what to do; nor could anybody find Mr. Chesterfield, the loud shouts for whom seemed to make him a character of some importance.  Mr. Smooth kept very cool the while, thinking it best to maintain his philosophy up to a scientific point; and in that way he reckoned it was as well to send for Doctor Punch, who, in such cases was an adept of a practitioner, and had an extensive infirmary in Fleet street, where patients innumerable were healed for three-pence.  Well, just as they were on the point of making a rush, a voice cried out—­’Here I am! here I am!’ and in another minute there jumped from under the table a suspicious-looking turkey, who stood upon the platter, clapped his wings, and sent the dough-nuts into a flutter about the room.  ’I’m all right’ he proclaimed, stretching to his extreme height ’let every man take care of himself.’  My reader will scarce question my veracity when I say the turkey looked with grave disdain upon the unnecessary confusion, made at this moment by British cabinet cooks, whom it was gravely intimated, had lessoned of Mr. Pierce’s French cook, Monsieur Souley.  Mr. Smooth, about this time, resolved to leave the donkey diplomatists, and drive his own ugly brutes home.

CHAPTER XVI.

SMOOTH DINES WITH CITIZEN PEABODY.