Swash!!
Over Sir Walter’s head went the ale, and the frightened lackey dashed down the steps.
“H-e-l-p! H-e-l-p!” cried he. “My Master is burning up! H-e-l-p!”
But Sir Walter did not burn up this time. Instead he near split his gallant sides with laughing.
Now, Boys, don’t smile! ’Tis said that good old Queen Bess tried, herself, to smoke a Long Nine. But—hush—“she became so dizzy and ill from the effects that she never ventured upon the experiment again!” (Keep this quiet! Very quiet! Will you!)
On one occasion she was watching Sir Walter blowing circles of smoke over his head, and said to him—
“Zounds! (or something stronger) Sir Walter! You are a witty man; but I will wager that you cannot tell me the weight of the smoke which comes from your pipe!”
“I can, indeed,” was the confident reply of the gallant courtier. “Watch me closely!”
At once he took as much tobacco as would fill his pipe and exactly weighed it. Having then smoked it up, he—in like manner—weighed the ashes.
“Now, Your Majesty,” said he, smiling. “The difference between these two weights is the weight of the smoke.”