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Updated: June 18, 2025


Some carried what might be called the smoker's complete outfit a pipe, tobacco, a pricker with which to clean the tube, a silver net for protecting the bowl, and a box of the strongest brimstone matches. A true Dutchman, you must remember, is rarely without his pipe on any possible occasion. He may for a moment neglect to breathe, but when the pipe is forgotten, he must be dying indeed.

He plucked forth an ancient pipe, loaded it with painstaking care, and, without as much as by your leave, whacked half the tobacco of my pouch into his. Yes, the stuff was fairly good. He sighed with the contentment of the just, and literally absorbed the smoke from the crisping yellow flakes, and it did my smoker's heart good to behold him. Hunter? Trapper? Prospector?

Now he knew this road to be seldom used, and therefore he wondered who could be riding it at a gallop in this blistering midday heat. A few rods farther on and his quick eye detected something else something that brought him from his saddle. Out of the rut he picked a cigarette butt, the fire of which was cold but the paper of which was still wet from the smoker's lips.

"There go flukes!" was the cry, an announcement immediately followed by Stubb's producing his match and igniting his pipe, for now a respite was granted. After the full interval of his sounding had elapsed, the whale rose again, and being now in advance of the smoker's boat, and much nearer to it than to any of the others, Stubb counted upon the honor of the capture.

It was a long thin nose, and on either side was a very sharp black beady eye, which did not set off or improve a thin, wrinkled yellow face, as the owner sauntered by with a roughly-made cigar in his mouth, the smoking of which seemed to necessitate the sucking in of the smoker's cheeks, as he gazed eagerly at the seated party and went on.

"Yes," said I, "but do you happen to know if he had anything upon him by any chance when he died?" "Not to my knowledge," said the Superintendent. And there the matter rests. If I can attain Heaven for a pice, why should you be envious? Opium Smoker's Proverb. This is no work of mine.

"I would find myself immersed in dreamy seas of vaporous and idle bliss do you catch that combination? and fancy myself, mark you, busy all the time. It is the smoker's dementia accentuated by such a mixture as this, that while he is blowing rings he imagines he is doing something " "The deuce he does! And he is jolly well right."

As he sat, one evening, high on the quarter, smoking his pipe, in that calm, contemplative mood which is the smoker's reward for a day of toil, the little vessel pitching bows under in the long, tremendous swell of the Atlantic, the low drifting fog lurid in the light of the setting sun, but bright stars twinkling out, one by one, overhead, in a sky of Italian clearness and softness, it all came to him, that which he had so long, so vainly sought, toiled for, prayed for in New York, his destiny.

"For the last time," shouted Jenks, shaking his fist in the smoker's face, "I order you to take out that boat, and ferry us across the river!" "For the last time," said the man, very calmly, "I tell you I'm not going to risk my life for four fools!" George walked up closer to Watson, and whispered: "Let's seize the boat, and try to cross over ourselves!"

Colonel Winwood selected a fresh cigar, clipped off the end, and lit it from a silver spirit lamp by his side. He blew out the first exquisite puff the smoker's paradise would be the one first full and fragrant, virginal puff of an infinite succession of perfect cigars looked anxiously at the glowing point to see that it was exactly lighted, and leaned back in his chair.

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