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Updated: May 25, 2025
But there were some good men and true, thoughtful men, quietly disposed men, gentle and kind, who, next to a good "square" meal prized a smoke. Possibly, here begins consolation. Who can find words to tell the story of the soldier's affection for his faithful briar-root pipe!
The Town Guard who had questioned the officer about the difference of time, deciphered the blotty writing on the slip of paper pinned round the stem of the new briar-root. It ran thus: "i ope yu wil Engoy this Pip Deer; i Fild it A Purpus with Love and Menney Apey Riturnse. from "'Is gal?" interrogated the Reserve man. "His girl," assented the man who had read.
At which direct defiance the stubborn sneer would reappear upon Professor Summerlee's face, and he would sit, shaking his sardonic head in unsympathetic silence, behind the cloud of his briar-root pipe. So much, for the moment, for my two white companions, whose characters and limitations will be further exposed, as surely as my own, as this narrative proceeds.
Once when he had bought a new, expensive briar-root, he handed it to me, saying: "I'd like to have you smoke that a year or two, and when it gets so you can't stand it, maybe it will suit me." Following his birthday dinner, Mark Twain had become once more the "Belle of New York," and in a larger way than ever before.
"No matter who's to blame, you know it, right enough," said the captain, "and I'm obliged to you for the reminder. Now, here's this Attwater: what do you think of him?" "I do not know," said Herrick. "I am attracted and repelled. He was insufferably rude to you." "And you, Huish?" said the captain. Huish sat cleaning a favourite briar-root; he scarce looked up from that engrossing task.
No; I've got pretty well hardened to people smoking about me now. Sorry I can't offer you a cigar, Jerry." "Pipe's good enough for such as me, sir. There," continued the man, as he filled his briar-root, "aren't I keeping my tongue well in hand? Haven't called you S'Richard once." "And you must not, whatever you do."
He gets off the bed and slips on his jacket, takes a turn or two across the narrow floor-space, then leans against the distempered wall beside the window, puffing at his jetty briar-root, his muscular arms folded on his great chest, his powerful shoulders bowed, his square, black head thrust forward, and his blue eyes coolly studying Julius as he talks.
He was smoking a very black briar-root pipe, and perhaps his Majesty enjoyed the weed all the more that there was just above his head, tacked to the wall, a large placard containing the words, "No smoking allowed in this room, or in any other part of the theatre."
All those eyes, feverishly bright or sickly dull, watched him as he put his hand into the bulging breast-pocket, and slowly fished out a shining brown briar-root with a stem unchewed as yet by any smoker. "Twig this 'ere noo pipe. It was sent me by a by a friend, along of a packet of 'Oneydew, for a for a kind o' birthday present."
"And my briar-root pipe and tobacco." "Yes, and my silver matchcase, and a whole lot of other things," said Ham Spink. "Yes; and what right had you to make a roughhouse of our camp?" demanded another boy. "All of our stores are ruined," put in still another. "It was mean to scatter that coffee in the mud!" "And the sugar and beans!" "Yes; and put the salt in the flour!"
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