SMOKERS I HAVE MET 



BY JOHN EKNEST MCCANN 



THE first uncommon smoker I ever knew 

 was not a great smoker, but he was a gen- 

 ius. He had a studio in a building on 

 Tremont Street, opposite the Granary 

 Burying-ground, in Boston, in the early 

 '70s. His name was Martin Milmore, and 

 he was a sculptor. I used to often drift 

 into his studio to see him model, and watch 

 him gracefully smoke long all-tobacco 

 Spanish cigarettes. I was a small boy 

 in those days, and was in doubt as to 

 whether I would become a sculptor or a 

 hearse driver. It was such a fine thing 

 to sit on a hearse, and drive up. Tremont 



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