the life and death of a famous
Dutch smoker, but I am rather afraid my Dutch friends who told me the
story will shrug their shoulders, for they lamented that strangers who
write on Holland pass over important things which do honor to the
country, and mention only trifles such as this. However, this is such
a remarkable trifle that I cannot resist the temptation of putting it
down.

Once upon a time there was a wealthy gentleman who lived in the
suburbs of Rotterdam. His name was Van Klaes, but he was nicknamed
Papa Big Pipe, for he was a fat old fellow and a great smoker. He was
a man of simple habits and kindly heart, who, as the story runs, had
made a great fortune in India by honest trade. On his return from
India he built himself a beautiful mansion near Rotterdam, and in this
home he collected and arranged in order every imaginable kind of pipe.
There were pipes of every country and of every period, from those used
by ancient barbarians to smoke hemp, to the splendid meerschaum and
amber pipes ornamented with carved figures and bands of gold like
those seen in the finest stores of Paris. The museum was open to
visitors, to each of whom, after he had aired his knowledge on the
subject of pipe-collecting, Mr Van Klaes gave a pouch filled with
tobacco and cigars, and a catalogue of the museum in a velvet cover.

Every day Mr Van Klaes smoked a hundred and fifty grammes of tobacco,
and he died at the ripe old age of ninety-eight years; consequently,
if we assume that he began to smoke when he was eighteen years old, he
consumed in the course of his life four thousand three hundred and
eighty-three kilogrammes. If this quantity of tobacco could be laid
down in a continuous black line, it would extend twenty French
leagues. But, in spite of all this, Mr Van Klaes showed that in death
he was a far greater smoker than he had been in life. Tradition has
preserved all the particulars of his end. He was approaching his
ninety-eighth birthday when it was suddenly borne in upon him that the
end of his life was at hand. He summoned his notary, who was also a
notable smoker, and, "Notary," said he with no unnecessary words,
"fill my pipe and yours; I am going to die." The notary filled and
lighted the pipes, and Mr Van Klaes dictated that will which has
become celebrated all over Holland.

[Illustration: On the Meuse, near Rotterdam.]

After he had bequeathed the greater part of his fortune to relatives,
friends, and charit