was kind and obliging, and, being well known every where, was
highly appreciated as a man possessed of a remarkable fund of
information. At parting they generally stopped to kiss hands and take
a pinch of snuff.

The first time I witnessed the favorite ceremony of snuff-taking I was
at a loss to understand what it meant. A man with a small horn flask,
which it was reasonable to suppose was filled with powder and only
used for loading guns or pistols, drew the plug from it, and, stopping
quite still in the middle of the road, threw his head back and applied
the tube to his nose. Surely the fellow was not trying to blow his
brains out with the powder-flask! Two or three times he repeated this
strange proceeding, snorting all the time as if in the agonies of
suffocation. The gravity of his countenance was extraordinary. I could
not believe my eyes.

"What an absurd way of committing suicide!" I remarked to Zoega.

"Oh, sir, he is only taking snuff!" was the reply.

"But if he stops up both nostrils, how is he going to breathe?" was my
natural inquiry.

[Illustration: TAKING SNUFF.]

Zoega kindly explained that, when the man's nose was full he would
naturally open his mouth, and as the snuff was very fine and strong
it would eventually cause him to sneeze. In this way it was quite
practicable to blow out the load.

"But don't they ever hang fire and burst their heads?" I asked, with
some concern.

"Why no, sir, I've never heard of a case," answered Zoega, in his
usual grave manner; "in this country every body takes snuff, but I
never knew it to burst any body's head."

It was really refreshing the matter-of-fact manner in which my guide
regarded all the affairs of life. He took every thing in a literal
sense, and was of so obliging a disposition that he would spend hours
in the vain endeavor to satisfy my curiosity on any doubtful point.

"Why, Zoega," said I, "this is a monstrous practice. I never saw any
thing like it. Are you quite sure that fellow won't kick when he tries
to blow his nose?"

"Yes, sir, they never kick."

"Tell me, Zoega, are their breeches strong?"

"Oh yes, sir."

"That's lucky." I was thinking of an accident that once occurred to a
young man of my acquaintance. Owing to a defect in the breech of his
gun, the whole load entered his head and killed him instantaneously.

The gravity of these good people in their forms of politeness is one
of the most striking features in their soci