divan--which was fixed into the corner of the room, and on one side
of the angle sat Mahmoud al Ackbar, with his feet tucked under him,
while I sat on the other. The remainder of the party stood around,
and I felt so little master of the occasion, that I did not know
whether it would become me to bid them be seated. I was not master
of the entertainment. They were not my pipes. Nor was it my
coffee, which I saw one of the followers preparing in a distant part
of the room. And, indeed, I was much confused as to the management
of the stick and amber mouth-piece with which I had been presented.
With a cigar I am as much at home as any man in the City. I can
nibble off the end of it, and smoke it to the last ash, when I am
three parts asleep. But I had never before been invited to regale
myself with such an instrument as this. What was I to do with that
huge yellow ball? So I watched my new friend closely.

It had manifestly been a part of his urbanity not to commence till I
had done so, but seeing my difficulty he at last raised the ball to
his mouth and sucked at it. I looked at him and envied the gravity
of his countenance, and the dignity of his demeanour. I sucked
also, but I made a sputtering noise, and must confess that I did not
enjoy it. The smoke curled gracefully from his mouth and nostrils
as he sat there in mute composure. I was mute as regarded speech,
but I coughed as the smoke came from me in convulsive puffs. And
then the attendant brought us coffee in little tin cups--black
coffee, without sugar and full of grit, of which the berries had
been only bruised, not ground. I took the cup and swallowed the
mixture, for I could not refuse, but I wish that I might have asked
for some milk and sugar. Nevertheless there was something very
pleasing in the whole ceremony, and at last I began to find myself
more at home with my pipe.