The wag, at this instant, gave such a practical illustration of his theme, as would have suffocated the major, had not his military habits rendered him smoke proof.
“In short, gentlemen,” continued Ned, “a pipe is the solace of my life and the mainspring of my spirits; knock out my pipe and you knock out my brains. I verily believe that, if I could not obtain the ‘furies’ frankincense,’ as they have been pleased to call tobacco, I should be like Vicar Breedon, who, according to William Lilly, cut the bell-ropes and smoked them.” So saying, he gave another puff, and then removing the pipe from his mouth, sang the following ditty:--
“Little tube of magic power,
Charmer of an idle hour,
Object of my warm desire,
Lip of wax, and eye of fire;
And thy snowy taper waist,
With my finger gently braced.”
&c. &c.
“Always merry, Ned,” cried Mr. Seymour.