"Let's buy a lot of tickets," he added, struck with an idea.
"Now, that's how you can always tell a good cigar," observed the agent to Marcus as the two sat smoking at the end of the table.

"The light end should be rolled to a point." "Ah, the Chinese cigar-makers," cried Marcus, in a passion, brandishing his fist.

"It's them as is ruining the cause of white labor.

They are, they are for a FACT.

Ah, the rat-eaters! Ah, the white-livered curs!" Over in the corner, by the stand of shelves, Old Grannis was listening to Maria Macapa.