The day's play

by A. A. Milne

THE POST BAG

The other day I received a letter from some very old friends of mine who live in Queen Victoria Street.

Memo from Messrs Robinson, Cigar Shippers

MY DEAR SIR,—We have been very anxious at not having heard from you for nearly a year. We trust that you are in good health and that no illness or bereavement has kept you from writing to us. As you know, it is our one ambition to satisfy you in the matter of cigars, and your long silence on the subject has naturally made us apprehensive. Until we hear from you, however, we shall refuse to believe that the last lot you had from us were fatal.

Write to us frankly on the subject. How did you like the cigars we sent you last Christmas? Were they brown enough? Did they smoke to a finish strongly? One third shipper, who went to Havana especially to select this lot for you, writes us that in this respect they were fit for an ambassador or (we may add) an actor manager. What is it, then, that you are keeping back from us? Perhaps you could not light them? If this was the case you should have written to us before, and we would either have sent you others of a more porous quality or forwarded you our special gimlet, with which you could have brought about the necessary draught. Lay bare your heart to us about these cigars. Do you mind the green spots?

A connoisseur like yourself will, of course, understand that, though we guarantee that all the cigars sent out by us can be smoked, yet the quality of the cigar must necessarily vary with the price. This being so, perhaps you would care to try a slightly higher-priced cigar this time. We have referred to our books and we see that last year we had the pleasure of sending you a box of our famous Flor di Cabajo at 8s. 6d. the hundred. A nicer-coloured cigar is the Blanco Capello at 9s. 6d.; but we are hoping this Christmas that you will see your way to giving our celebrated Pompadoros, at £5 the hundred, a trial. They have all the features of the Cabajo which you approved, together with a breadth and charm of flavour of their own. May we send you a box of these?

Our other special lines are:

The I am Coming—a spirited young cigar at 7s. 6d. the hundred, of which we enclose a sample.

The Mañana—prompt and impressive—10s. the hundred. (Note.—This cigar has a band.)

The There and Back—a good persevering cigar. Only 10s. 6d. Never comes undone.

However we are quite sure that none of these will appeal to such a fastidious palate as yours must be by now, and that we may confidently rely on your order for a box of Pompadoros.

We may say that if you should unfortunately have completely lost your taste for cigars we shall be happy to send a box to any friend of yours. Nothing could make a more acceptable present, and nothing would endear your friend or his relatives to you so completely.

Now please write to us and tell us what you feel about it. We desire to make friends of our customers; we do not wish our business to be a mere commercial undertaking. Talk to us as freely as you would to your old college chum or fellow-clubman. We insist on being of service to you. Hoping to hear from you within a day or two, we are, etc.,

ROBINSON & Co.

I replied at once:

Memo from Me

DEAR OLD FRIEND,—A thousand thanks for your sympathetic letter, and the book with the pictures. Upon my word, I don't know which of the cigars I like best; they all look so jolly. Are they photographs or water-colours? I mean, are they really as brown as that? I like the tall, well set-up one on page 7. I see you say that it smokes strongly to a finish. That is all very well, Oswald, but what I want to know is, Does it hang the beginning at all? Some of these cigars with a strong finish are very slow forward, you know.

Many thanks for the sample. Bless you, Rupert, I didn't mind the green spots. What do they mean? That the cigar isn't quite ripe yet, I suppose. But I think you overdo the light brown spots. Or are they lucky, like those little strangers in the tea?

Yes, I think I must have some of your Pompadoros. Send a box at Christmas to Mr Smithson, of 199 Cornhill, with our love—yours and mine and the third shipper's. I'll pay. Not at all, Percy, it's a pleasure. He sent me some last Christmas; as it happened, I left 'em in the train before I had smoked one; but that wasn't his fault, was it? I'll get some for myself later on, if I may. You won't mind waiting?

Dear old soul, you make a mistake when you say I had some cigars from you last year. I assure you I've never heard of your name till to-day. That was why I didn't write on your birthday. You'll forgive me, won't you?

Now it is your turn to write. Tell me all about yourself, and your children, and the third shipper, and the light brown spots and everything. Good-bye! Your very loving college chum.

The correspondence concluded thus:

DEAR SIR,—We have received your esteemed order, which shall be promptly executed. Though the Pompadoros will not be despatched to your friend till Christmas, they are now being selected and will be put aside to cool.

We have referred again to our books and find that a box of our celebrated young Cabajos was indeed despatched to your address last year, on the advice of Mr Smithson, of 199 Cornhill. This was why we were so anxious at your long silence. We are, etc.,

ROBINSON & Co.

DEAR OLD SPORT,—I am afraid you misunderstood my last letter. The Pompadoros are for myself; it was a hundred I am Comings which I wanted for my friend Mr Smithson. I must tell you a funny thing about him; as a friend of both of us you will be interested. He collects cigar bands! I have no use for them myself; so, if it isn't troubling you, would you send the Pompadoro bands to him, as the I am Comings haven't any of their own? You might put them on the cigars to save packing. Ever your devoted fellow-clubman.