A couple of years ago, soon after the new railway was opened, I had to go somewhere or other on business.
Well, I took a first-class ticket, sat down, and began to smoke, or rather CONTINUED to smoke, for I had lighted up before. I was alone in the carriage. Smoking is not allowed, but it is not prohibited either; it is half allowed -- so to speak, winked at. I had the window open. Suddenly, just before the whistle, in came two ladies with a little poodle, and sat down opposite to me; not bad looking women; one was in light blue, the other in black silk.
The poodle, a beauty with silver collar, lay on light blue's knee. They looked haughtily about, and talked English together. I took no notice, just went on smoking.
I observed that the ladies were getting angry -- over my cigar, doubtless. One looked at me through her tortoise-shell eyeglass.
I took no notice, because they never said a word. If they didn't like the cigar, why couldn't they say so? Not a word, not a hint! Suddenly, and without the very slightest suspicion of warning, 'light blue' seizes my cigar from between my fingers, and, wheugh! out of the window with it! Well, on flew the train, and I sat bewildered, and the young woman, tall and fair, and rather red in the face too red, glared at me with flashing eyes.
I didn't say a word, but with extreme courtesy, I may say with most refined courtesy, I reached my finger and thumb over towards the poodle, took it up delicately by the nape of theneck, and chucked it out of the window, after the cigar. The train went flying on, and the poodle's yells were lost in distance.
"I was right, truly right", cried the general, with warmth and solemnity, "for if cigars are forbidden in railway carriages, poodles are much more so".