What did they do in the East before they smoked?  From the many-robed Pacha, with his amber-mouthed and jewelled chibouque, longer than a lancer’s spear, to the Arab clothed only in a blue rag, and puffing through a short piece of hollowed date-wood, there is, from Stamboul to Grand Cairo, only one source of physical solace.  If you pay a visit in the East, a pipe is brought to you with the same regularity that a servant in England places you a seat.  The procession of the pipe, in great houses, is striking:  slaves in showy dresses advancing in order, with the lighted chibouques to their mouths waving them to and fro; others bearing vases of many-coloured sherbets, and surrounding a superior domestic, who carries the strong and burning coffee in small cups of porcelain supported in frames of silver fillagree, all placed upon a gorgeous waiter covered with a mantle of white satin, stiff and shining with golden embroidery.

In public audiences all this is an affair of form.  “The honour of the pipe” proves the consideration awarded to you.  You touch it with your lips, return it, sip a half-filled cup of coffee, rise, and retire.  The next day a swarm of household functionaries call upon you for their fees.  But in private visits, the luxury of the pipe is more appreciated.  A host prides himself upon the number and beauty of his chibouques, the size and clearness of the amber mouth-piece, rich and spotless as a ripe Syrian lemon, the rare flavour of his tobaccos, the frequency of his coffee offerings, and the delicate dexterity with which the rose water is blended with the fruity sherbets.  In summer, too, the chibouque of cherry-wood, brought from the Balkan, is exchanged for the lighter jessamine tube of Damascus or Aleppo, covered with fawn-coloured silk and fringed with silver.

The hills of Laodicea celebrated by Strabo for their wines, now produce, under the name of Latakia, the choicest tobacco in the world.  Unfortunately this delicious product will not bear a voyage, and loses its flavour even in the markets of Alexandria.  Latakia may be compared to Chateau Margaux; Gibel, the product of a neighbouring range of hills, similar, although stronger in flavour, is a rich Port, and will occasionally reach England without injury.  This is the favourite tobacco of Mehemet Ali, the Pacha of Egypt.  No one understands the art of smoking better than his Highness.  His richly carved silver sheesha borne by a glossy Nubian eunuch, in a scarlet and golden dress, was a picture for Stephanoff.  The Chibouquejee of the Viceroy never took less than five minutes in filling the Viceregal pipe.  The skilful votary is well aware how much the pleasure of the practice depends upon the skill with which the bowl is filled.  For myself, notwithstanding the high authority of the Pacha, I give the preference to Beirout, a tobacco from the ancient Berytus, lower down on the coast, and which reminded me always of Burgundy.  It sparkles when it burns, emitting a bright blue flame.  All these tobaccos are of a very dark colour.