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Updated: June 13, 2025
Then, "Take that cigaroot out of your mouth," he bellered. "What d'ye mean by coming into my office smoking cigareets?" Percy had always smoked whatever he blamed pleased, wherever he blamed pleased before, though Old Ham wouldn't stand for it from any one else.
It raises a man up, and it elevates him, and it makes him feel like a millionaire. If I only had a dime, as the man said, I'd spend it for a box of cigareets just to git the chromo-card. That's what I think of art, gentlemen, and that's how crazy I am over it.
"How'd you like to be doin' a nice quiet job at gardenin' in the East where you could belly up to the bar reg'lar every evenin', and drink a pussy cafe and smoke tailor-made cigareets?" "You wouldn't like it a bit," put in the Cattleman with decision; whereupon in proof he told us the following story: Windy has mentioned Gentleman Tim, and that reminded me of the first time I ever saw him.
"I see thet he'll never git ter whar he's goin' on ther nag, an' I thinks I'll do him a favor by sittin' him on a piece o' live hossmeat, an' I said I'd trade if he hed anythin' ter boot. Now, what do yer think he hed?" "I ain't got a notion." "A pack o' Mexican cigareets what burned like a bresh fire an' smelled like a wet dog under a stove." "Haw, haw! An' yer traded?"
"He want know di'n' he never tell her thishere Dills can't smoke no mo' cigareets on his property, an' di'n' he tell her he was'n' goin' allow him on the place if he did? He say she got to go back on the po'che an' run thishere li'l Dills off home. He say he give her fair choice; she kin run him off, or else he go on out and chase him away hisse'f.
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