“You have two minutes in which to light your pipes!” he announced, watch in hand; then, presently, “One minute!” “Half a minute!” “One quarter of a minute!” These successive announcements were followed by the ringing of a bell, and then, almost simultaneously, twenty hands holding burning matches were raised to set the pipes alight. All but one or two, whom anxiety to be in time had slightly flurried, delayed setting the match to the tobacco until the very last moment. One unfortunate competitor procrastinated too long, and was promptly disqualified before he could apply the light. No time had been wasted in removing the matches from the table, and as soon as the time-limit had been reached every one but the disappointed straggler was beginning very slowly to draw short puffs. At this critical moment, when all the rivals were applying themselves with slow caution to the initial whiffs, on which the final issue frequently depends, so complete a silence reigned that one might have heard the proverbial pin drop. It is said by many that the secret of success is found in the way of lighting, but as to which is the correct modus operandi there exists a great diversity of opinion, for while one expert will attribute his success to the fact that he lights the tobacco nearest the side of the bowl, another equally practised smoker believes in applying the match to a central spot. Be that as it may, there is no denying the fact that to ensure obtaining a satisfactory start both experience and intelligence are essential factors.
“IN DISTRESS.”
From a Photograph.
But to return to our friends of the “Rookersclub.” Ten minutes had elapsed, and all were still in the running except the disappointed man who had been ejected at the outset. Some had become quite communicative, trusting to their pipes to look after themselves while they exchanged views on politics. Others, not losing for one moment their sense of the importance of the occasion, kept the stems between their teeth, without allowing their tense expressions to relax into the faintest suspicion of a smile. One competitor in particular looked as if he were made of wax, even the chaffing of his colleagues failing to upset his gravity. He had been pointed out to me as a winner of many prizes and the fortunate possessor of a temperament any smoker might envy.
“Ting-a-ling” went the bell, the announcement of the extinction of a pipe—the first defeat—and this early failure was received with general merriment.
AN OPEN-AIR CONTEST IN THE COUNTRY.
From a Photograph.