In walking about the streets with my parrot, Pippity was constantly
obliged to inhale the fumes of tobacco. He could not endure it, and
frequently asked me in his own fashion why people persisted in puffing
such sickening smoke from their mouths. I explained the matter to him,
but he never could see any sense in it. It was known on board the ship
that Pippity disliked the fumes of tobacco, and he was such a general
favorite that no one smoked in his presence.
But in the city streets he met with no such consideration. He was
incessantly compelled to breathe tobacco smoke, and it made him ill. In
a very few days he was seized with a painful choking sensation, caused
by the irritation of the smoke, and in a short time he died. His last
words were:
"That detestable tobacco!"
And so I lost this good friend. I had his skin stuffed, and presented
it to our society of natural history.
There were people to whom I told this story of my adventures who did
not believe me, but I was always sure they would have credited my word
if only I had had my monkey and my parrot with me to corroborate the
truth of my strange history.
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