smoke⁠—it deprives a man of the best part of life, so to speak⁠—or at least of a first-class pleasure. When I wake in the morning, I feel glad at the thought of being able to smoke all day, and when I eat, I look forward to smoking afterwards; I might almost say I only eat for the sake of being able to smoke⁠—though of course that is more or less of an exaggeration. But a day without tobacco would be flat, stale, and unprofitable, as far as I am concerned. If I had to say to myself tomorrow: ‘No smoke today’⁠—I believe I shouldn’t find the courage to get up⁠—on my honour, I’d stop in bed. But when a man has a good cigar in his mouth⁠—of course it mustn’t have a side draught or not draw well, that is extremely irritating⁠—but with a good cigar in his mouth a man is perfectly safe, nothing can touch him⁠—literally. It’s just like lying on the beach: when you lie on the beach, why, you lie on the beach, don’t you?⁠—you don’t require anything else, in the line of work or amusement either.⁠—People smoke all over the world, thank goodness; there is nowhere one could get to, so far as I know, where the habit hasn’t penetrated. Even polar expeditions fit themselves out with supplies of tobacco to help them carry on. I’ve always felt a thrill of sympathy when I read that. You can be very miserable: I might be feeling perfectly wretched, for instance; but I could always stand it if I had my smoke.”