You, naturally enough, reply that you have not the honour of being
acquainted with these severe, but enthusiastic gentlemen. Nobody does
know them. They don't exist. But it is very useful to affect a sort of
second-hand knowledge of these Gorgons of the weed, as thus:--

_A Party of Guns is walking to the first beat of the day.
Time, say about_ 10·20 A.M.

_Young Sportsman_ (_who has a pipe in his mouth, to Second Sportsman,
similarly adorned_). I always think the after-breakfast smoke is about
the best of the day. Somehow, tobacco tastes sweeter then than at any
other time of the day.

_Second Sp._ (_puffing vigorously_). Yes, it's first class; but I hold
with smoke at most times of the day, after breakfast, after lunch,
after dinner, and in between.

_Young Sp._ Well, I don't know. If I try to smoke when I'm actually
shooting, I generally find I've got my pipe in the gun side of my
mouth. I heard of a man the other day who knocked out three of his
best teeth through bringing up his gun sharp, and forgetting he'd
got a pipe in his mouth. Poor beggar! he was very plucky about it,
I believe; but it made no end of a difference to his pronunciation
till he got a new lot shoved in. Just like that old Johnnie in the
play--Overland something or other--who lost his false set of teeth
on a desert island, and couldn't make any of the other Johnnies
understand him.

_Second Sp._ I've never had any difficulty with my smoking. I always
make a habit of carrying my smokes in the left side of my mouth.