Such tobacco I revelled in as may have filled the pouch of Pan as he lay smoking on the mountain-sides.

Once I saw a beautiful woman with brown hair, in and out of which the rays of a morning sun played hide-and-seek, that might not unworthily have been compared to it.
Beguiled by the exquisite Arcadia, the days and the years passed from me in delicate rings of smoke, and I contentedly watched them sailing to the skies.

How continuous was the line of those lovely circles, and how straight! One could have passed an iron rod through them from end to end.

But one day I had a harsh awakening.

I bit the amber mouth-piece of my pipe through, and life was never the same again.
It is strange how attached we become to old friends, though they be but inanimate objects.