"Not a place is sacred to him;
Churchyards, where the flowers bloom;
Gardens, drives, in fact the world is
Just one mighty smoking room,
And when once he quits this mundane sphere,
And takes his outward flight,
From the world he made a hades,
Day he's turned to murky night.
"When he reaches his destination,
Finds 'tis not a dream or hoax,
And the Judge deals out his sentence,
Then I'll wager that he smokes;
Oh, he'll care then whom he has vexed,
And their mercy he'll invoke;
But although he squirms and fidgets,
They'll just let him smoke and smoke and smoke."
CHAPTER XXI.
TRIP ON FALL RIVER STEAMBOAT, FROM BOSTON TO NEW YORK--OFFICERS TRIED
TO LOCK ME IN MY STATE ROOM--SEQUEL SATISFACTORY, MADE PLEASANT
TRIP AND MANY FRIENDS.
In the summer of 1903 I took a Fall River boat from Boston to New
York. These boats are said to be the finest in the world. There was
quite a commotion among the several hundred passengers when I went
aboard, and the door was blocked in the women's cabin to get a look at
the Crazy Smasher from Kansas.
Men were smoking pipes, cigars and cigarettes. I said: "Men, get away
from the door with your smoke, you make me sick." They paid no attention
to me. I went to the clerk and complained of being compelled to
submit to the outrage of being subject to the poisonous fumes, in such
a manner as to attract the attention of all to the matter.
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