the alarm. Major Smooth was in an alarming situation!--'most
dying!--would breathe his last!--warn't no help fo'h him!--must die,
sartin!! Such a ringing and dinging of bells, such a tampering up
stairs, such a puffing and blowing of excited citizens as followed,
never was heard or seen before. Although in a tight place, I was
neither alarmed nor crest fallen. Indeed, I thought I'd enjoin the old
lady on the other side to enter upon the discussion of a political
question, just by way of keeping up the characteristic sociability of
the nation. Presently about a dozen dangerously excited faces
presented themselves in the room. 'He's gone, certain,' says one;
'Major Smooth's a cold chicken,' mutters another; 'Young America's
cutting a figure,' rejoins a third; 'he's only at rest while
performing some overt act,' interposes a fourth. 'Much you know about
it!' says I, cool as Labrador: 'I merely put my head through this ere
place for the purpose of being friendly with this lone female
lodger--pull me out!' In right good earnest they seized me by the
boots, saying:--'Let us bring Young America into a respectable
position;' and with the most unmerciful jerks they laid me measuring
the floor. In no wise disconcerted, I picked myself up, and inquired
if they had another strap to loan me. With the exception of Cato, the
negro, they all enjoyed a good laugh; he had no sooner relieved me,
than he commenced raising a fuss about my damaging the ceiling--never
for once taking Mr. Smooth's head into consideration. Young America,
he said, was always too fast--always getting into trouble and calling
upon others to help him out.




CHAPTER VI.