t chance they can have. Best chance, instead of the worst
chance as at present: ah me, ah me, who will reduce fools to silence
again in any measure? Who will deliver men from this hideous nightmare
of Stump-Oratory, under which the grandest Nations are choking to a
nameless death, bleeding (too truly) from mouth and nose and ears, in
our sad days?"

This Tobacco-College is the Grumkow-and-Seckendorf chief field of
action. These two gentlemen understand thoroughly the nature of the
Prussian Tobacco-Parliament; have studied the conditions of it to the
most intricate cranny: no English Whipper-in or eloquent Premier knows
his St. Stephen's better, or how to hatch a measure in that dim hot
element. By hint, by innuendo; by contemplative smoke, speech and
forbearance to speak; often looking one way and rowing another,--they
can touch the secret springs, and guide in a surprising manner the big
dangerous Fireship (for such every State-Parliament is) towards
the haven they intend for it. Most dexterous Parliament-men
(Smoke-Parliament); no Walpole, no Dundas, or immortal Pitt, First
or Second, is cleverer in Parliamentary practice. For their Fireship,
though smaller than the British, is very dangerous withal. Look at this,
for instance: Seckendorf, one evening, far contrary to his wont, which
was prostrate respect in easy forms, and always judicious submission
of one's own weaker judgment, towards his Majesty,--has got into some
difficult defence of the Kaiser; defence very difficult, or in reality
impossible. The cautious man is flustered by the intricacies of his
position, by his Majesty's indignant counter-volleys, and the
perilous necessity there is to do the impossible on the spur of the
instant;--gets into emphasis, answers his Majesty's volcanic fire by
incipient heat of his own; and, in short, seems in danger of forgetting
himself, and kindling the Tobacco-Parliament into a mere conflagration.
That will be an issue for us! And yet who dare interfere? Friedrich
Wilhelm's words, in high clangorous metallic plangency, and the
pathos of a lion raised by anger into song, fall hotter and hotter;
Seckendorf's puckered brow is growing of slate-color; his shelf-lip,
shuttling violently, lisps and snuffles mere unconciliatory
matter:--What on earth will become of us?--"Hoom! Boom!" dexterous
Grumkow has drawn a Humming-top from his pocket, and suddenly sent it
spinning. There it hums and caracoles, through the bottles and glasse