It was dirty, of course, horribly
dirty, but, as Mrs. McClarty said, "the dirt was well dried on," and it
was almost empty, so I entered. At a way station a great crowd, great
compared to the size of the compartment, came surging in. Every man had
a clay pipe, every man had a supply of the most villanous tobacco. I do
not wonder the Government taxes such tobacco, that it has to be sold by
license--some would not grieve if the duty were prohibitory.
Soon matches were struck, a tiny flash and a fusilade of reports like
toy pistols--all matches here go off like that. Every man began to smoke
for dear life, and smoked furiously with great smacks and puffs. And the
floor! when the mud of many days that had hardened and dried there was
moistened again by tobacco juice! Soon the compartment was filled with
smoke, there was literally nothing else to breathe. The car began to
heave about like a ship at sea. Fortunately we stopped at a station and
some on board got out, so that there was an opportunity of getting close
to the door and letting down the glass and a faint was prevented.
It was not pleasant to sit there craning one's neck round to breathe at
the window, for the seats ran lengthways of the carriage, and keeping
all crushed up to keep out of the way of a cross fire of tobacco juice
from the opposite benches.
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