edged myself to point out
the very spot in his grounds where it grew.

I became celebrated in Meshed for the excellence of my pipes. My
principal customer was a dervish, who was so great a connoisseur that
I never dared to give him any but pure tobacco; and although I did not
gain much by his custom, as he was not very exact in his payments, yet
his conversation was so agreeable, and he recommended so many of his
friends to me, that I cultivated his good will to the utmost of my
power.

Dervish Sefer (for that was his name) was a man of peculiar aspect. He
had a large aquiline nose, piercing black eyes, a thick beard, and a
great quantity of jet black hair flowing over his shoulders. His conical
cap was embroidered all over with sentences from the Koran, and holy
invocations: the skin of a red deer was fastened loosely upon his back,
with the hairy side outwards: he bore in hand a long steel staff, which
he generally carried on his shoulder, and in the other a calabash,
suspended by three chains, which he extended whenever he deigned to ask
the charity of passengers. In his girdle he wore large agate clasps,
from which hung a quantity of heavy wooden beads; and, as he swung
himself along through the streets and bazaars, there was so much of
wildness and solicitude in all his words and actions, that he did not
fail to inspire a certain awe in all beholders. This, I afterwards
learn, was put on, in order to suit the character which he had adopted;
for when he smoked my pipes, if no one chanced to be present, he was the
most natural and unreserved of beings. Our acquaintance soon improved
into intimacy, and at length he introduced me into a small circle of
dervishes, men of his own turn and profession, with whom he lived almost
exclusively, and I was invited to frequent their meetings. It is true
that this did not suit my views in the smoking line, for they amongst
them consumed more of my good tobacco than all the rest of my other
customers put together; but their society was so agreeable that I could
not resist the temptation.

Dervish Sefer, one evening when we had smoked more than usual, said to
me, 'Hajji Baba, you are too much of a man to be a seller of smoke all
your life:--why do you not turn dervish, like us? We hold men's beards
as cheap as dirt; and although our existence is precarious, yet it is
one of great variety, as well as of great idleness. We look upon mankind
as fair game--we live upon their weakness