* * * * *
One of our colleagues, a lusty genial in respect of tobacco, has
told us of a magnificent way to remove an evil and noisome taste
from an old pipe that hath been smoked overlong. He says, clean the
bowl carefully (not removing the cake) and wash tenderly in fair,
warm water. Then, he says, take a teaspoonful of the finest vatted
Scotch whiskey (or, if the pipe be of exceeding size, a
tablespoonful of the same) and pour it delicately into the bowl.
Apply a lighted match, and let the liquor burn itself out. It will
do so, he avouches, with a gentle blue flame of great beauty and
serenity. The action of this burning elixir, he maintains, operates
to sizzle and purge away all impurity from the antique incrustation
in the bowl. After letting the pipe cool, and then filling it with a
favourite blend of mingled Virginia, Perique, and Latakia, our
friend asserts that he is blessed with a cool, saporous, and
enchanting fumigation which is so fragrant that even his wife has
remarked upon it in terms complimentary. Our friend says (but we
fear he draws the longbow nigh unto fracture) that the success of
this method may be tested so: if one lives, as he does, in the
upward stories of a tall apartment house, one should take the pipe
so cleansed to the window-sill, and, smoking it heartily, lean
outward over the sill. On a clear, still, blue evening, the air
being not too gusty, the vapours will disperse and eddy over the
street; and he maintains with great zeal that passersby ten tiers
below will very soon look upward from the pavement, sniffingly, to
discern the source of such admirable fumes.
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