Tobacco

A gentleman who loved tobacco exceedingly well, went into a first-class smoking compartment, filled his pipe, and settled down, with a newspaper in front of him, to enjoy the luxury of a long and undisturbed worship of the weed. He had a journey of fifty miles up the West Highland Line before him. Just as the train was moving off, a lady, who was panting and flustered, was pushed up into the compartment by a porter. It was soon evident that pipes and tobacco were not congenial to this dame. She began to sniff in a very haughty fashion, but the smoker, utterly indifferent to her presence, continued to roll out with deliberate relish his dense tobacco fumes.

Soon she lost all patience, and said with extreme bitterness: “You there, behind that paper, you have no manners. You have no right to smoke before a lady. Do you know who I am? I am one of the directors’ wives!“

” Down went the journal, and “Oh, indeed,” said he, “you are one of the director’s wives, are you? Well, let me tell you this, that even if you were the director’s only wife, I do not intend to encourage you, by any compliance of mine, in the bad habit of rushing for trains and getting into the wrong compartment!”

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