I expected that the spiced odors of Araby were going to steal over my senses now, but they did not.

A copper-colored skeleton, with a rag around him, brought me a glass decanter of water, with a lighted tobacco pipe in the top of it, and a pliant stem a yard long, with a brass mouth-piece to it.
It was the famous "narghili" of the East--the thing the Grand Turk smokes in the pictures.

This began to look like luxury.

I took one blast at it, and it was sufficient; the smoke went in a great volume down into my stomach, my lungs, even into the uttermost parts of my frame.

I exploded one mighty cough, and it was as if Vesuvius had let go.