"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 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,