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On this evening I was seized with the fancy to visit him and passing through the grounds of the capitol, where the bronze Washington and his great companions looked silently out into the moonlight, reached the small house, followed the path through the shrubbery, and opening the door in the rear, found myself suddenly enveloped in a cloud of cigar smoke, through which loomed the portly figure of Mr.
Gibson came in for a little while; no news. I went to Dalmahoy, where we were most kindly received. It is a point of friendship, however, to go eight miles to dinner and return in the evening; and my day has been cut up without a brush of work. Smoked a cigar on my return, being very cold. February 25. This morning I corrected my proofs.
"Maybe I catch a whole lot more than you think I do!" "Yes, perhaps you do." "And d' you know why Sam doesn't light his cigar when he's here?" "Why?" "He's so darn afraid you'll be offended if he smokes. You scare him. Every time he speaks of the weather you jump him because he ain't talking about poetry or Gertie Goethe? or some other highbrow junk.
Direck sat comfortably, and smoked with quiet appreciation the one after-lunch cigar he allowed himself. At any rate, if he himself felt rather word-bound, the fountain was nimble and entertaining.
He would not have liked cleaning his own boots or sweeping up the cigar ends and tobacco ash with which he strewed the floors of the palace. He would not have slept well at night in a bed that he made himself.
On the ground at his feet lay a billhook and a hand-saw, and once or twice he stirred these with his foot, or made a movement with his disengaged right hand as if he were using one of them. When he had stood there some ten minutes in growing impatience, a young gentleman came sauntering down the drive smoking a cigar.
She was a most remarkable woman." The speaker dropped the end of his cigar into his coffee-cup and, taking his case from his pocket, selected a fresh one. As he did so he laughed and held up the case that the others might see it. It was an ordinary cigar-case of well-worn pig-skin, with a silver clasp. "The only time I ever met her," he said, "she tried to rob me of this."
Numbers of comfortable-looking women and children sat beside the head of the family upon the tavern-benches, and it was amusing to see one little fellow of eight years old smoking, with much gravity, his father's cigar. How the worship of the sacred plant of tobacco has spread through all Europe!
Then she broke into a laugh, and put the cigar back between the lips of her husband held out to her. It was charming. Oscar was no doubt accustomed to this, for he did not seem astonished, but placed his hand on his wife's shoulder, as one would upon a child's, and, kissing her on the forehead, said, "Thanks, my dear."
"I shall cut them down this fall, Fanny. I'm not unreasonable, I hope. Don't say a word more: I forgot your neuralgia, my dear. Down they come!" But they never did come down. Mrs. Guinness never expected them to come down, any more than she expected Peter to give up his cigar.
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