The Washington herald., 1912-12-25
THE BACHELORS
CHRISTMAS SMOKE
A Revere by Ralph W. Tyler.

A Revere by Ralph W. Tyler.
It's a pure Havana. ] balance 1t mo-
ment between the first and second fin
ger. and then roll it back and forth.
complacently, using the thumb as the
motive power. How often have you done
this very self-samc thing. when Contem-
plating the pleasure TO be derived from
the smoking of u genuine, fragrant Hav-
ana. I next bite of the tip of one end.
taking care no; to waste too much OF
this Teverie-producing bit of Havana
tobacco. then touch a lighted match to
the other End, after placing the bitten
end between my lips, take two OF three
short, quick puffs TO assure myself IL is
lighted, and a long draw to taste the sat
isfying flavor. and then I drop down into
my easy chair. Throwing myself back
In the big leather upholstered Chair-half
reclining, | pun and pun. watching, the
while, the thin, white smoke, tinted with
a delicate touch OF azure. curl gracefully
up and disappear among the curtains.
the pictures. and the draperies OF my
den. ] sit here selishly. all alone. on
Christmas Day, and watch the curls and
Tinglets Of smokc-watCh my morning OF
life with its toys and parental caresses;
my boyhOOd days-see my knickerbocker
and pinafore frOcked companions come
trOOping out of school and go running
down the lane and across the fields: see
my young manhood days-catCh a vision
airy view of her sweet face and 1.-THE
form-see 1t appear and disappear, and
then the past eludes in smoke, to make
| room for castles in the air.
I gaze upon the castles. surrounded
with wide eXpanse Of verdure. great
spreading trees, gorgeous nature painted
blooms. aroma-freighted roses, Clingins
vines that Rugged the massive gray stone
walls. Gazed upon these kaleidoscope
castles whose interiors are Oriental
splendor-marbl" floors partially hid by
rarest of Persian rugs, windows hung
with damask drapcrics: gold. ivory inlaid
furniture: mirrors that reflect back the
face and form OF one beside whom. &c
me. the beauty Of the nymph Of Para
disc was hut a transltOry flight Of fancy.
gaZcd. CntranCed, upon all these while
music from harp and flute was being
waited by perfumed zephyrs down
through the halls OF my castles whose
walls are hung with the masterpieces
OF long dead masters Of brush and pal
etc. stop putting. for a moment. To
contemplate this enrapturing. Rebulous
picture: this smOke-begOtten dream, and
I
remove the cigar from my lips. How
long did l contemplate this nebular pic
ture of fancy? I know not. | catch my
self thinking. Again I place the cigar
between my lips and take two or three
vigorous draws. My cigar has gone out!
| would continue this smoke fancy.
Leisurely striking a match. l again light
my cigar. II is now half consumed.
There is not the same delightful favor
a. hn grvnka
and up. but it is a Grayer smoke. 1t is
no longer tinted with azure. The castles
do not appear. puff as hard as l may.
That beautiful face that form divine dis
dams 10 mix with the grayer smoke. Ny
den is again normal, with its piles of
books. newspapers and magazines lying
prOmisCuously and disOrderly about-be-
reft of womans tender. loving care. !
still pun. Instead OF regal castles, cold,
methodcal. vulgar wealth-Eetting bust
ness cares mix with the grayish-brown
smoke my cigar now emits. 7 am plan
ming ahcad-planning to-morrow's bust
ness ! pour over the debts and credits,
and rummaGe through unsympathetiC
Cancelled checks. count up my cash in
bank, compute the interest thereon.
Covet the trade and wealth Of my neigh
Dor. and I frOwn upon the nebular half
clad. hunger-pinChed. sad-faced child
whose eNpeCtdNl merry uIlSlIIldS HI
terrupts my sordid planning.
InvoIuntarily l remove the cigar from
my lips while I think hard and selhshly
how can pile up more gold. not for
charity nor even realistic pleasure castles,
not 10 make the half-clad. hunger
pinched, sad-faced child happy. but
Just to hoard up. to Jingle with my
| fingers with a sort Of sardonic compla-
cenCy Again l place the cigar between
my lips. 1t is three-fourths consumed.
My cigar is out again.
Nervously, and more quickly than be-
fore, I again strike a match. Again !
light my-stub. I pun and pun away.
It's hard for it to hold fire. The moisture
from my lips has crepJ up within an inch
OF the burned end. I draw hard and
vigorously The smoke rises. but nc
longer in graceful Curls and ringlets of
white. tinted with a delicate azure. No
longer Is il a Erayish brown. The smoke
rises in spasmOdiC sheets-ths now dark.
black. disagreeable Odor smoke. and the
flavor OF my now almost finished Havana
is that of charred fungus. | am wonder
ing aimlessly. Inspiration has lost Itself.
Hope that dweIt eXultingly in my ncbular
childhood and the splCndOr OF my nebulaT
castles. too. have disappeared. Fancy
is but a faint memory. The tangled ends
Of business / tried to assemble in CO.
herent state at the second lighting is 3
mass of disquieting perpleXities. Reality,
with its somber settings Of misdirected
aims. of disappointments and failures
and archaeological plans. is mixed with
the dark. black, disaGreeablC Udor smoke
from my almost finished cigar Nervous
" arise to my feet and feverishly and
vigorously l darw at the weed. but II
emits no smoke. The clock strikes twelve,
which sadly tells me Christmas is gone
gone without my having ushered bit of
sunshine in any ones life, and without
having tasted of the joy of living. Ny
cigar is out again. Out for good. 1t has
gone up in smoke.
The Small Boy.
RNrorn I,rdpr