They calmly smoke on while the foe gallop up.

There is something grand in this, even though the kind of cigar is not mentioned.
[Illustration] I see a bearded hero, with slouch hat and shepherd's crook, a clay pipe in his mouth.

He is a Bohemian--ever a popular type of hero; and the Bohemian is to be known all the world over by the pipe, which he prefers to a cigar.

The tall, scornful gentleman who leans lazily against the door, "blowing great clouds of smoke into the air," is the hero of a hundred novels.

That is how he is always standing when the heroine, having need of something she has left in the drawing-room, glides down the stairs at night in her dressing-gown (her beautiful hair, released from its ribbons, streaming down her neck and shoulders), and comes most unexpectedly upon him.