XIX Bill on Tobacco

I lit my pipe, an’ set with Bill a spell Out on the porch. The sun hed jes’ went down; The hens an’ chickens, ’thout no ’parent aim, Was gravitatin’ towards the hen-house door; The poults was floppin’ int’ the apple tree, An’ Zony come acrost the dewy yard A-bringin’ in the evenin’ mess o’ milk. ’Twas peaceful like, an’ I was tuckered out, An’ thet thar corn-cob tasted pow’ful good. I hedn’t hed a smoke sence noon, an’ co’se I’d be’n a-cravin’ on’t sence supper’s over, An’ kind o’ grudged ter hev ter gwout an’ feed The colts ’fore settin’ down an’ lightin’ up. But now the work was done, an’ thar I was Ez comf’tabul an’ ca’m ez I could be, Suckin’ an’ blowin’ great big gobs o’ smoke, An’ strangulatin’ three four hundred flies Thet got the’rsel’s all settled fer the night. Bill picked ’is teeth ez quiet ez a lamb, An’ didn’t make no sound, ’cept ’cazhnully, When one my puffs would veer agin ’is face, He’d cough an’ bresh the smoke off with ’is hand. I’d never saw Bill smoke, or chaw, or “dip,” Sence I hed knowed ’im, tho’ I’d offen wondered Jes’ why it was thet he denied hisself About the bigges’ comfort they is goin’. I blowed a bunch o’ smoke rings threw the screen, An’ watched ’em melt away in bluish mist. Then I inhaled, an’ filled my chist up full Till I could feel the nickerteen soak in Clean to my toes, an’ brace me up all over. I fairly wallered in thet smoke, by jing! At last—’twas gittin’ right smart darkish, ’n’ we Could hear the snipe a-callin’ in the fiel’, An’ all the western sky was brownish pink— Bill ups an’ sez—an’ I could see ’is grin— “’Pears like y’er’ gittin’ sight o’ comfort out O’ thet thar shag, an’ I aint blamin’ on ye, Tho’ onct ’n a while it sort o’ turns my stummick. What is’t, ‘Farmer’s Delight’?” “Nope, ‘Dago’s Joy’”, I sez, a-rammin’ in another charge. I got it goin’, an’ after while he sez: “Looks like it might be; ’f yew kin smoke thet stuff, I reckin yew’re a smoker, an’ would stand Fer ennything from burdock ter hoss-redish, Or tan-bark, blacksmith’s parin’s, stable sweepin’s, An’ sich like stuff they put in them thar kind O’ boxes ’t yew got thar.” “Aw, quit yer josh,” I sez, “I’ve smoked all them one time or ’nother, An’ know the diff’runce. This ’ere smoke is reel Terbacker; guess I know.” “Terbacker nuthin’”, Sez ’e; “smells more ter me like some ol’ buf’- Lo robe hed ketched afire.” An’ then ’e laffed. Ef ennybody else but Bill hed poked Thet kind o’ fun at me, I might o’ got A leetle riled; but somehow ’r ’nuther ’taint No use ter let yerself git hot around Yer neck when Bill throws in his leetle hooks. Yew hev ter laff in spite o’ ev’ry thing. An’ so I cooled ri’ down an’ sez reel quiet: “Ef yew knowed ennything about terbacker, Ef yew’s a smoker, ’n’ hed the feelin’ on ’t, Yew’d quit remarkin’ things like that ’a’ one. I bet yew never even smoked corn-silk, Rattan, hay-seed, sweet fern, an’ baby stuff Like that, thet cubs begins on when they’re smart. I tell ye yew do’ know nuthin’ about it.” I tho’t I’d fixed ’im, fer a spell at least, Fer ’e kep’ still, an’ hummed reflective like. Bimeby he went ’t the door an’ hawked an’ spit, Come back, an’ set, an’ coughed—fer I hed puffed A lot o’ smoke right towards ’is empty cheer— An’ kind o’ choky sez: “I s’pose yew think Yew’ve sized me up correc’. I’ll tell ye suthin’: Yew do’ know no more ’n nuthin’ what yer sayin’; A rabbit knows more ’bout terbacker ’n yew Compared ter me.” “W’y, Bill, I never seen Ye smoke,” I sez, “nor chaw, in all these years.” “Wal, that don’t mean,” he sez, “’t I never did. When I was a young feller, I begun Ter smoke an’ chaw like all the other han’s, Only I done it more ’n they did. I’d hev Ter hev my chaw ez soon ez I was out O’ bed, an’, ’cept at meals, I chawed all day An’ part the night, an’ smoked the rest the time. I’ve woke up many nights an’ lit a pipe. Ez time went on I kep’ a-gittin’ wuss. Laury, she said my mouth was like a sewer When ’t wa’n’t a fact’ry chimbley; an’ I noticed The things I et wa’n’t relishin’; I couldn’t Tell pepper-grass from pie, or Woostersheer From coffee; eatin’ wa’n’t no fun no more. An’ then I found I couldn’t git terbacker Nowheres near strong enough. I tried all kinds From fine-cut down ter Black Twist Nigger Head, A leetle mite o’ which will make a hog So sick he cain’t eat nuthin’ fer a week, An’ like enough he’ll die. I give a mule A piece onct, I remember, jes’ fer fun, The handiest feller with ’is heels we hed. Say! Soon’s the pizen got ter work inside, Thet cuss begun ter ram around an’ beller Like he was givin’ birth t’ a pair o’ twins, A thing no or’nary mule aint s’posed ter dew. An’ then ’e up an’ kicked the barn door out, Le’pt over coupla gates an’ started off Like them thar Gadarenian swine yew’ve heerd About in Scriptur’. Reck’n he’s runnin’ yit, Leastways we never seen ’im ar’terwards. Wal, I begun ter color up, until I looked some ’ut like summer crook-necks dew Dead-ripe in August. Appetite ’bout gone, An’ nervous ez a new-broke colt hitched up Ter plow. An’ still I chawed an’ smoked an’ chawed, An’ couldn’t seem ter git enough. Black Twist Ter me was like a peece o’ straw ter yew. I scoured the kentry stores; the strongest brands Would satisfy no more ’n molasses would. O’ co’se yew understand I wa’n’t no slave Ter thet thar weed; I only hed ter hev it, That’s all. (They’s fokes ’at thinks they ain’t no diff’runce Atween them two idees; we know they is.) One day a pedlar come along, an’ Laury She bought a coupla packages o’ pills ’T the feller said was ‘guaranteed’ ter knock Terbacker habits higher ’n wheat, an’ cure The most ‘invertebrate’—or some sich word— Terbacker user in the world. She kep’ It dark, an’ fed them pellets on the sly Ter me in stuff I et. But ’twa’n’t no use; I kep’ on chawin’ more an’ more. It might ’A’ made some diff’runce, p’raps, ef I hed knowed What she was up tew. Ginally yew hev Ter know about sich things ter hev ’em dew Ye enny good at all. Wal, things was thet ’A’ way when yew fust come. Yew ’member when I met ye up ’t the deepo yew was smokin’ Thet thar same shag stuff yew’re a-smokin’ now; I ketched a whiff or tew—I never told Ye ’bout it ’fore—but ’twas enough; it done What nuthin’ else hed done fur thirty year. I haint bit off a single chaw sence that, Or smoked a whiff, so help me Moses Pratt!” When I’d collected all my senses back, Bill he hed slid away an’ gone ter bed.