"Look, it's a calm on the waters, and a calm in our hearts, as we inhale these sedative odors." "So calm," said Babbalanja; "the very gods must be smoking now." "And thus," said Media, "we demi-gods hereafter shall cross-legged sit, and smoke out our eternities.

Ah, what a glorious puff! Mortals, methinks these pipe-bowls of ours must be petrifactions of roses, so scented they seem.

But, old Mohi, you have smoked this many a long year; doubtless, you know something about their material--the Froth- of-the-Sea they call it, I think--ere my handicraft subjects obtain it, to work into bowls.

Tell us the tale." "Delighted to do so, my lord," replied Mohi, slowly disentangling his mouth-piece from the braids of his beard.

"I have devoted much time and attention to the study of pipe-bowls, and groped among many learned authorities, to reconcile the clashing opinions concerning the origin of the so-called Farnoo, or Froth-of-the-Sea." "Well, then, my old centenarian, give us the result of your investigations.