Tom and Dick. Puff—— Puff—— (And then each of them spat out.)
Friend. Why, Tom, you’ve become a great smoker.
Tom. Puff—— Puff—— Yaws.
Friend. And you too, Dick?
Dick. Puff—— Puff—— Ees. (The imperfect vocable being squeezed out through his teeth at the left corner of his mouth.)
Friend. And do you find it agree with you, Tom—is it pleasant?
Tom here, after a few puffs, slowly draws one hand out of his pocket, and taking the cigar out of his mouth, spits out, draws his breath, and after a minute replies:
“No, blast it; it always makes me sick.”
He then restores the cigar to his mouth and his hand to his pocket, while his friend puts a similar interrogatory to Dick.
“And does it always make you sick too?”