“Tell me, Severnius, do women on this planet do everything that men do?”
“They have that liberty,” he replied, “but there is sometimes a difference of tastes.”
“I am glad to hear it!”
“For instance, they do not smoke. By the way, have a cigar?” He passed me his case and we both fired up. There is a peculiarly delightful flavor in Marsian tobacco.
“They have a substitute though,” he added, removing the fragrant weed from his lips to explain. “They vaporize.”
“They what?”
“They have a small cup, a little larger than a common tobacco pipe, which they fill with alcohol and pulverized valerian root. This mixture when lighted diffuses a kind of vapor, a portion of which they inhale through the cup-stem, a slender, tortuous tube attached to the cup. The most of it, however, goes into the general air.”
“Good heavens!” I cried, “valerian! the most infernal, diabolical smell that was ever emitted from any known or unknown substance.”
“It is said to be soothing to the nerves,” he replied.