'Why,' said he, addressing me, as a new thought seemed
to strike him, 'why, _your_ head is growing grey! I never noticed it
before. It is almost as white as mine. Well, well!' he continued, as
he tapped the thumb nail of his left hand with the inverted bowl of
his pipe, knocking the ashes from it as he spoke, 'well, well! it
won't be long until we will have smoked our last pipe. Mine, at least,
will soon be broken. But what of that? Seventy-eight years is a long
time to live in this world. I have had my share of life and of the
good pertaining to it, and shall have no right to complain when my
pipe is broken and its ashes scattered.' Such was the philosophy of an
almost Octogenarian smoker."
"I move for a suspension of sentence," said Smith, "Spalding's defence
of the weed, induces me to withdraw the indictment against it, leaving
punishment only for the excessive use of it."
The motion was carried unanimously, and by way of confirming the
decision, we all refilled our pipes and smoked till the stars looked
down in their brightness from the fathomless depths of the sky.
CHAPTER VII.
KINKS!--"DIRTY DOGS"--THE BARKING DOG THAT WAS FOUND
DEAD IN THE YARD--THE DOG THAT BARKED HIMSELF TO DEATH.
"The hallucinations of Smith," said Spalding, after we
had settled the matter of the pipes, and were enjoying a
fresh pull at the weed, "as described by the Doctor, remind
me of a slight attack of fever which I had some months ago,
and from which I recovered partly through the aid of the
Doctor's medicine, and partly through the kindness of a
young friend of mine; and of the strange 'kinks,' as you
call them, which got into my head between the fever and
the Doctor's opiates.
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