B. Was Cheerful And Frivolously Inclined At The Beginning Of Our
Walk (We Were Strolling Down The Maximilian Strasse, After Dinner);
But As I Talked To Him, I Was Glad To Notice That He Gradually Grew
More Serious And Subdued.
He is not really bad, you know, only
thoughtless.
B. bought some cigars and offered me one. I did not want to smoke.
Smoking seemed to me, just then, a foolish waste of time and money.
As I said to B.:
"In a few more years, perhaps before this very month is gone, we
shall be lying in the silent tomb, with the worms feeding on us. Of
what advantage will it be to us then that we smoked these cigars to-
day?"
B. said:
"Well, the advantage it will be to me now is, that if you have a
cigar in your mouth I shan't get quite so much of your chatty
conversation. Take one, for my sake."
To humour him, I lit up.
I do not admire the German cigar. B. says that when you consider
they only cost a penny, you cannot grumble. But what I say is, that
when you consider they are dear at six a half-penny, you can
grumble. Well boiled, they might serve for greens; but as smoking
material they are not worth the match with which you light them,
especially not if the match be a German one. The German match is
quite a high art work. It has a yellow head and a magenta or green
stem, and can certainly lay claim to being the handsomest match in
Europe.
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