is Drake, when he
happened that way, with a large amount of booty which he had just
taken from the Spaniards in the southern seas.

Another expedition was sent over by Raleigh; and yet another. They
were failures. But there was one, single thing which was not a
failure. This was the discovery of a herb called "Yppowoc," or
tobacco, the leaves of which--when dried--were smoked by the natives
in long pipes.

Curious Sir Walter had a jeweller in London make him a silver pipe,
after the fashion of those used by the native Virginians. In this he
began to smoke the tobacco, and soon grew to like it very much; so
much, indeed, that he was scarcely ever without this comforter, when
enjoying the quiet of his home.

One day he was sitting cosily by his fire with his Long Nine in his
mouth, and the smoke was curling gracefully over his head. Just as he
was puffing out a particularly thick cloud, one of his servants
happened to enter the room with a tankard of ale, for the luncheon
table.

"Ye Gods!" cried he. "My Master's on fire!"

_Swash!!_

Over Sir Walter's head went the ale, and the frightened lackey dashed
down the steps.

"H-e-l-p! H-e-l-p!" cried he. "My Master is burning up! H-e-l-p!"

But Sir Walter did not burn up this time. Instead he near split his
gallant sides with laughing.

Now, Boys, don't smile! 'Tis said that good old Queen Bess tried,
herself, to smoke a Long Nine. But--hush--"she became so dizzy and ill
from the effects that she never ventured upon the experiment again!"
(Keep this quiet! Very quiet! Will you!)

On one occasion she was watching Sir Walter blowing circles of smoke
over his head, and said to him--

"Zounds! (or something stronger) Sir Walter! You are a witty man; but
I will wager that you cannot tell me the weight of the smoke which
comes from your pipe!"

"I can, indeed," was the confident reply of the gallant courtier.
"Watch me closely!"

At once he took as much tobacco as would fill his pipe and exactly
weighed it. Having then smoked it up, he--in like manner--weighed the
ashes.

"Now, Your Majesty," said he, smiling. "The difference between these
two weights is the weight of the smoke."

And again Queen Bess remarked "Zounds!" (or Eftsoons!). At any rate,
she paid the wager, for--with all her frailties--she was a Good Loser.

Raleigh, in fact, shortly became reinstated in Royal favor, and, when
he aided Drake and Hawkins--soon afterwards--in dispersing the
Invincibl