Here Mr. Bull, who was only half asleep, kicked out in such an alarming
manner, that for some seconds, his boots gyrated fitfully all over the
family hearth, filling the whole circle with consternation. For, when Mr
Bull _did_ kick, his kick was tremendous. And he always kicked, when the
Bulls of Rome were mentioned.

Mrs. Bull holding up her finger as an injunction to the children to keep
quiet, sagely observed Mr. Bull from the opposite side of the
fire-place, until he calmly dozed again, when she recalled the scattered
family to their former positions, and spoke in a low tone.

"You must be very careful," said the worthy lady, "how you mention that
name; for, your poor father has so many unpleasant experiences of those
Bulls of Rome--Bless the man! he'll do somebody a mischief."

Mr. Bull, lashing out again more violently than before, upset the
fender, knocked down the fire-irons, kicked over the brass footman, and,
whisking his silk handkerchief off his head, chased the Pussy on the rug
clean out of the room into the passage, and so out of the street-door
into the night; the Pussy having (as was well known to the children in
general), originally strayed from the Bulls of Rome into Mr. Bull's
assembled family. After the achievement of this crowning feat, Mr. Bull
came back, and in a highly excited state performed a sort of war-dance
in his top-boots, all over the parlor. Finally, he sank into his
arm-chair, and covered himself up again.

Master C. J. London, who was by no means sure that Mr. Bull in his heat
would not come down upon him for the lateness of his exercise, took
refuge behind his slate and behind little John, who was a perfect
game-cock. But, Mr. Bull having concluded his war-dance without injury
to any one, the boy crept out, with the rest of the family, to the knees
of Mrs. Bull, who thus addressed them, taking little John into her lap
before she began:

"The B.'s of R.," said Mrs. Bull, getting, by this prudent device, over
the obnoxious words, "caused your poor father a world of trouble, before
any one of you were born. They pretended to be related to us, and to
have some influence in our family; but it can't be allowed for a single
moment--nothing will ever induce your poor father to hear of it; let
them disguise or constrain themselves now and then, as they will, they
are, by nature, an insolent, audacious, oppressive, intolerable race."

Here little John doubled his fists, and began squaring