The conclusion of this pathetic verse brought to his mind the extraordinary circumstance of his pipe (the one he had been smoking) continuing to be vigorously puffed long after it had usually required replenishing. He might have exhausted three in the same time. He also became conscious of a curious burning sensation spreading from immediately under his red cap to the very extremities of his ten toes. The smoke he inhaled seemed very hot; and the alarm which his observations on these matters created was considerably increased by hearing a roar of small shrill laughter burst from under his very nose!
"Donner und blitzen!" exclaimed the bewildered cobbler, as he took the pipe out of his mouth and looked around him to discover from whence the sounds proceeded.
"Smoke away, old boy! Smoke away! You won't smoke me out in a hurry, I can tell ye."
Jacob directed his eyes to the place from whence came this strange address, and his astonishment may be imagined at perceiving that the words were uttered by his pipe! The ill-looking, black satyr, carved on the bowl, seemed to cock his eye at him in the most impertinent manner, twisted his mouth into all sorts of diabolical grimaces, and laughed till the tears ran down his sooty cheeks. Jacob was, as he himself expressed it, "struck all of a heap."
"You know you wished to the Teufel your pipe would never require refilling," said the voice as plainly as it could, while laughing all the time; "so your desire is now gratified. You may smoke me till the day of judgement."
Jacob, in fear and trembling, recalled to mind his impious wish; and even his regret for having been jilted by the widow Van Bree was forgotten in the intensity of his alarm.
"Smoke away, Jacob Kats!—I'm full of capital tobacco," continued the little wretch, with a chuckle.
The terrified cobbler was thinking of refusing, yet too much afraid of the consequences; while his tormentor, distorting his hideous features into a more abominable grin, shrieked out in his shrill treble,
"You must smoke me—no use refusing now! Here I am, old boy, with a full bowl that will never burn out—never, never, never! so you'd best smoke." And then, as if noticing his indecision, he exclaimed, with a fresh burst of horrid laughter, "Well, if you won't, I'll make you: so, here goes!" and, before his wretched victim was aware of the manoeuvre, he jumped stem foremost into his mouth.
"Now, smoke away, old boy, or worse will follow!" said the little satyr threateningly.