The following epigrams for tobacco jars from "The Tobacco Plant" evince much "taste, wit, and ingenuity."

Fill the bowl, you jolly soul, And burn all sorrow to a coal.

Henry Clay.

That man is frugal and content indeed, Who finds food, solace, pleasure in a weed.

The "Weed".

Behold! this vessel hath a moral got, Tobacco-smokers all must go to pot.

Epigrammatic.

A weed you call me, but you'll own No rose was e'er more fully blown.

Sic Itur ad Nostra.

Great Jove, Pandora's box with jars did fill This Jar alone has power those jars to still.

In Nubilus.

Tobacco some say, is a potent narcotic, That rules half the world in a way quite despotic; So to punish him well for his wicked and merry tricks, We'll burn him forthwith, as they used to do heretics.

Zed.



No use to draw upon a bank if no effects are there, But a draw of this Tobacco is quite a safe affair; And a pipe with fragrant weed (such as I hold) neatly stuffed, Is just the only thing on earth that ought to be well puffed.

R. S. Y. P.

Poor woman "pipes her eye," When in affliction's gripe; But man, far wiser grown, Just eyes his pipe.

In Nubilus.

Sir Walter Raleigh! name of worth, How sweet for thee to know King James, who never smoked on earth, Is smoking down below.

Ex Fumo dare Lucem.

Travelers say Tobacco springs From the graves of Indian kings: Fill your pipe, then—smoke will be Incense to their memory. Though the weed's nor rich nor rare, 'Tis a balm for every care.

Peter Piper.

Give me the weed, the fragrant weed, My wearied brain to calm; In a wreath of smoke, while I crack my joke, I'll find a healing balm.

Day after day, let come what may, The pipe of peace I'll fill; I readily pay for briar or clay, To save a doctor's bill.

Pompone.

Great men need no pompous marble To perpetuate their name; Household gear and common trinkets Best remind us of their fame.

Raleigh's glory rests immortal On ten thousand thousand urns, Every jar is in memoriam, Every fragrant pipe that burns.

At an Ash.

There are jars of jelly, jars of jam, Jars of potted-beef and ham; But welcome most to me, by far, Is my dear old Tobacco-Jar. There are pipes producing sounds divine, Pipes producing luscious wine; But when I consolation need, I take the pipe that burns the weed.

Jars.

Friend of my youth, companion of my later days, What needs my muse to sing thy various praise? In country or in town, on land or sea, The weed is still delightful company. In joy or sorrow, grief or racking pain, We fly to thee for solace once again. Delicious plant, by all the world consumed, 'Tis pity thou, like man, to ashes too art doom'd.

Erutxim.

Hail plant of power, more than king's renown, Beloved alike in country and in town; In hotter climes oft mingled with the jet Of falling fountains; whilst the cigarette Kisses the fair one's lips, and by thy breath Redeems the wearied heart from ennui's death.

Theta.

If e'er in social jars you join, Seek this, and let them cease: Let all your quarrels end in smoke, And pass the pipe of peace.

Fumigator.



Many a jar of old outbroke Into fire and riot; This will yield, with fragrant smoke, Happy thought, and quiet.

41,911.

The moralist, philosopher, and sage. Have sought by every means, in every age, That which should cause the strife of men to cease, And steep the world in fellowship and peace; But all their toil and diligence were vain, 'Till Raleigh, noble Raleigh! crossed the main, And brought to Britain's shores the wish'd-for prize, The sovereign balm of life—within it lies.

Dum Spiro Fumigo.

To rich men a pastime, to poor men a treat, To all a true tonic most bracing and sweet, To talent a pleasure, to genius a joy, To workmen a comfort, to none an alloy, The tyrant it softens; it soothes him if mad, The king who may rule if he smokes not, is sad.

Kit.

Sacred substance! sweet, serene; Soothing sorrow's saddest scene: Scent-suffusing, silv'ry smoke, Softly smoothing suffering's stroke;— Solacing so silently— Still so swift, so sure, so sly: Smoke sublimated soars supreme, Sweetest soul-sustaining stream!

Similia Similibus.

Why should men reek, like chimneys, with foul smoke, Their neighbors and themselves to nearly choke? Avoid it, ye John Bulls, and eke ye Paddies! Avoid it, sons of Cambria, and Scottish laddies! Let reason convince you that it very sad is, And far too bad is, And enough to make one mad is To be smoked like a red herring or rank Finedon haddies.

J. S.

No punishment save hanging's too severe For those who'd rob the poor man of his beer; But for the wretch who'd take away his pipe, I think he's fully execution ripe!

Pipe Clay.

Weeds are but cares! Well, what of that! There's one weed bears a goodly crop; And this exception, then, 'tis flat, Doth give that rule a firmer prop. Tobacco brings the genial mood, Warm heart, shrewd thought, and while we reap From this poor weed such harvest good, We'll hold more boasted harvests cheap.

Festus.

To poets give the laurel wreath, let heroes have their lay, Of roses twine for lovely youth the garland fresh and gay; But we poor mortals, quite content, life's fev'rish way pursue, Can we but crown our foolish pates with wreaths of fragrant blue, Convinced that all terrestrial things which please us or provoke, Of ashes come, to ashes go, and only end in smoke.

Pocosmipo.

Whilst cannon's smoke o'erwhelms with deadly cloud The soldier's comrades in a common shroud, And whilst the conflagration in the street, With crushing roar the ruin makes complete, Tobacco's smoke like incense seeks the skies— Blesses the giver, and in silence dies!

Theta.

Use me well, and you shall see An excellent servant I will be; Let me once become your master, And you shall rue the great disaster!

As coin does to he who borrows, I'll soothe your cares and ease your sorrows; Abuse me, and your nerves I'll shatter, Your heart I'll break, your cash I'll scatter,

Use, not Abuse.

The savage in his wild estate, When feuds and discords cease, Soothes with the fragrant weed his hate, And smokes the pipe of peace.

Long may the plant good-will create, And banish strife afar: Our only cloud its incense sweet, And this our only jar.

Scire Facias.

Breathes there a man with soul so dead, Who never to himself hath said; I'll have to smoke, or I'll be dead? If so, then let the caitiff dread! My wrath shall fall upon his head. 'Tis plain he ne'er the Plant hath read; But "goody" trash, perchance, instead. Dear Cope, good night!—Yours, Master Fred.

That tobacco in one form or another has been patronized from the cottage to the throne, no one will deny who is at all acquainted with the history of the plant. And while it has had many a royal hater, it can also boast of having many a kingly user. A favorite of king and courtier, its use was alike common in the palace and the courtyard. It can claim, also, many celebrated physicians who have been its patrons, and among them the noted Dr. Parr. We give an anecdote of him showing his love of weed and wit.

The partiality this worthy Grecian always manifested for smoking is well known. Whenever he dined he was always indulged with a pipe. Even His Majesty, when Dr. Parr was his guest at Carlton Palace, condescended to give him a smoking-room and the company of Colonel C——, in order that he might suffer no inconvenience. "I don't like to be smoked myself, doctor," said the royal wit, "but I am anxious that your pipe should not be put out." One day, Dr. Parr was to dine at the house of Mr. ——, who informed his lady of the circumstance, and of the doctor's passion for the pipe. The lady was much mortified by this intimation, and with warmth said, "I tell you what, Mr. ——, I don't care a fig for Dr. P.'s Greek; he shan't smoke here." "My dear," replied the husband, "he must smoke; he is allowed to do so everywhere." "Excuse me, Mr. ——, he shall not smoke here; leave it to me, my dear, I'll manage it." The doctor came; a splendid dinner ensued; the Grecian was very brilliant. After dinner, the doctor called for his pipes. "Pipes!" screamed the lady. "Pipes! For what purpose?" "Why, to smoke, madam!" "Oh! my dear doctor, I can't have pipes here. You'll spoil my room; my curtains will smell of tobacco for a week." "Not smoke!" exclaimed the astonished and offended Grecian. "Why, madam, I have smoked in better houses." "Perhaps so, sir," replied the lady, with dignity; and she added with firmness, "I shall be most happy, doctor, to show you the rights (rites?) of hospitality; but you cannot be allowed to smoke." "Then, madam," said Dr. Parr, looking at her ample person; "then, madam,—I must say, madam,—" "Sir, sir, are you going to be rude?" "I must say, madam," he continued, "you are the greatest tobacco-stopper in all England." Of the clergy, Whatley was one of the greatest in intellect, and, as a smoker was devotedly attached to tobacco; his pipes, when out, served him for a book-marker. In summer-time he might be seen, of an evening, sitting on the chains of Stephen's Green, thinking of "that," as the song says, and of much more, while he was "smoking tobacco." In winter he walked and smoked, vigorously in both cases, on the Donnybrook road; or he would be out with his dogs, climbing up the trees to hide amid the branches a key or a knife, which, after walking some distance, he would tell the dogs he had lost, and bid them look for it and bring it to him.



Of many warriors, none have been more devoted to the plant than Napoleon, Frederick of Prussia and Bluecher the Bold. The following anecdote of the latter is one of the best of its kind: "As is well-known, Field-Marshal Bluecher, in addition to his brave young 'fellows' (as he called his horsemen), loved three things above all, namely, wine, gambling, and a pipe of Tobacco. With his pipe he would not dispense, and he always took two or three puffs, at least, before undertaking anything. 'Without Tobacco, I am not worth a farthing,' he often said. Though so passionately fond of Tobacco, yet old 'Forwards' was no friend of costly smoking apparatus; and he liked best to smoke long, Dutch clay pipes, which, as everybody knows, very readily break. Therefore, from among his 'young fellows' he had chosen for himself a Pipe-master, who had charge of a chest well packed with clay pipes; and this chest was the most precious jewel in Bluecher's field baggage. If one of the pipes broke, it was, for our hero, an event of the greatest importance. On its occurrence, the 'wounded' pipe was narrowly examined, and if the stem was not broken off too near the head, it was sent to join the corps of Invalids, and was called 'Stummel' (Stump, or Stumpy). One of these Stumpies the Field-Marshal usually smoked when he was on horseback, and when the troops were marching along or engaged in a reconnoissance, and eye-witnesses record that many a Stumpy was shot from his mouth by the balls of the enemy—nothing but a piece of the stem then remaining between his lips. Bluecher's Pipe-master, at the time of the Liberation War, was Christian Hennemann, a Mecklenburg and Rostock man, like Bluecher himself, and most devotedly attached to the Field-Marshal. He knew all the characteristic peculiarities of the old hero, even the smallest, and no one could so skillfully adapt himself to them as he. His duties as Pipe-master, Hennemann discharged with great fidelity; yea, even with genuine fanatical zeal. The contents of the pipe-chest he thoroughly knew, for often he counted the pipes. Before every fierce fight, Prince Bluecher usually ordered a long pipe to be filled. After smoking for a short time, he gave back the lighted pipe to Hennemann, placed himself right in the saddle, drew his sabre, and with the vigorous cry, 'Forward, my lads!' he threw himself into the fierce onset on the foe.

On the ever-memorable morning of the battle of Belle-Alliance (Waterloo), Hennemann had just handed a pipe to his master, when a cannon-ball struck the ground near, so that earth and sand covered Bluecher and his gray horse. The horse made a spring to one side, and the beautiful new pipe was broken before the old hero had taken a single puff. 'Fill another pipe for me,' said Bluecher; 'keep it lighted, and wait for me here a moment, till I drive away the French rascals. Forwards, lads!' Thereupon there was a rush forwards; but the chase lasted not only 'a moment,' but a whole hot day. At the Belle-Alliance Inn, which was demolished by shot,—the battle having at last been gained,—the victorious friends, Bluecher and Wellington, met and congratulated each other on the grand and nobly achieved work, each praising the bravery of the other's troops. 'Your fellows slash in like the very devil himself!' cried Wellington. Bluecher replied, 'Yes; you see, that is their business. But brave as they are, I know not whether one of them would stand as firmly and calmly in the midst of the shower of balls and bullets as your English.' Then Wellington asked Bluecher about his previous position on the field of battle, which had enabled him to execute an attack so fatal to the enemy.

Bluecher, who could strike tremendous blows, but was by no means a consummate orator, and could not paint his deeds in words, conducted Wellington to the place itself. They found it completely deserted; but on the very spot where Bluecher had that morning halted, and from which he had galloped away, stood a man with his head bound up, and with his arm wrapped in a handkerchief. He smoked a long, dazzling white clay pipe. 'Good God!' exclaimed Bluecher, 'that is my servant, Christian Hennemann. What a strange look you have, man! What are you doing here?' 'Have you come at last?' answered Christian Hennemann, in a grumbling tone; 'here I have stood the whole day, waiting for you. One pipe after another have the cursed French shot away from my mouth. Once even a blue bean (a bullet) made sad work with my head, and my fist has got a deuce of a smashing. That is the last whole pipe, and it is a good thing that the firing has ceased; otherwise, the French would have knocked this pipe to pieces, and you must have stood there with a dry mouth.' He then handed the lighted pipe to his master, who took it, and after a few eagerly-enjoyed whiffs, said to his faithful servant, 'It is true, I have kept you waiting a long time; but to-day the French fellows could not be forced to run all at once.' With astonishment, Wellington listened to the conversation. Amazed, he looked now at the Field-Marshal, now at the 'Pipe-master,' and now at the branches of trees and the balls scattered all round, which made it only too evident what a dangerous post this spot must have been during the battle. The wound in Hennemann's head proved to be somewhat serious; his hand was completely shattered; and yet, in the midst of the tempest of shot, he had stood there waiting for his beloved master."[55]

[Footnote 55: During the conquest of Holland, Louvais paid more attention to furnishing tobacco than provisions; and even at this day, as well as in former times, more care is taken to procure tobacco than bread to the soldier. Every soldier was obliged to have his pipe and his matches.]



Tobacco smoking, however, can boast of many patrons besides warriors, physicians and statesmen, some of the finest writers of the last three centuries have indulged in the weed. The following extract from the "Australasian" entitled, "Tobacco Smoking" refers to many literary smokers.

"Burke felt himself precluded from 'drawing an indictment against a whole community.' The critical moralist pauses before the formidable array of the entire social world, civilized and savage. The Cockney, leaving behind him the regalias and meerschaums of the Strand, finds the wax-tipped clay-pipe in the parlors of Yorkshire: finds dhudeen and cutty in the wilds of Galway and on the rugged shores of Skye and Mull. The Frenchman he finds enveloped in clouds of Virginia, and the Swede, Dane, and Norwegian, of every grade or class, makes the pipe his travelling companion and his domestic solace. The Magyar, the Pole and the Russian rival the Englishman in gusto, perhaps excel him in refinement; the Dutch boor smokes finer Tobacco than many English gentlemen can command, and more of it than many of our hardened votaries could endure; but all must yield, or rather, all must accumulate, ere our conceptions can approach to the German. America and the British colonies round off the picture, adding Cherokees, Redmen and Mongolians ad libitum. The Jew whether in Hounds ditch, Paris Hamburgh, or Constantinople, ever inhales the choicest growths, and the Mussulman's 'keyf' is proverbial. India and Persia dispute with us the palm of refinement and intensity, but the philosopher of Australia is embarrassed when he asks himself to whom shall I award that of zealous devotion?

"Dr. Adam Clarke, who could never reconcile himself to the practice, deemed it due to his piety to find a useful purpose in the creation of tobacco by all-seeing Wisdom, and as that discovered by the instincts of all the nations of the planet, and practiced by mankind for three centuries, is wrong, the benevolent Wesleyan of Heydon, applied himself diligently and generously to correct the world, and to vindicate its Author. 'In some rare cases of internal injury tobacco may be used but not in the customary way.' Be it known, then, that the Creator has not created it in vain. Dr. Clarke must have been a very good-natured man. He tortured his brains to find a hope of pardon for Judas Iscariot, and held that the creature (Nachash) who tempted Eve was not a serpent but a monkey cursed by the forfeiture of patella and podex; therefore doomed to crawl! But I fear, if the present form of using tobacco be not the true one, we must despair of ever finding it, and people will go on smoking and 'hearing reason' as long as the world goes round. Robert Hall received a pamphlet denouncing the pipe. He read it, and returned it. 'I cannot, sir, confute your arguments, and I cannot give up smoking,' was his comment. It is loosely asserted that smoking is more prevalent among scholars, intellectualists, and men who live by their brains, than among artisans and subduers of the soil. This is an error. Tobacco is less a fosterer of thought than a solace of mental vacuity. The thinker smokes in the intervals of work, impatient of ennui as well as of lassitude, and the ploughman, the digger, the blacksmith or the teamster, lights his cutty for the same reason. No true worker, be he digger, or divine, blends real work with either smoking or drinking. Whenever you see a fellow drink or smoke during work, spot him for a gone coon; he will come to grief, and that right soon. Sleep stimulates thought, and sometimes a pipe will bring sleep, but trust it not of itself for either thought or strength. It combats ennui, lassitude, and intolerable vacuity, soothing the nerves and diverting attention from self. Sam Johnson came very near the mark: 'I wonder why a thing that costs so little trouble, yet has just sufficient semblance of doing something to break utter idleness, should go out of fashion. To be sure, it is a horrible thing blowing smoke out; but every man needs something to quiet him—as, beating with his feet.'

"Life is really too short for moralists and medici who have read Don Quixote, to attack a verdict arrived at and acted upon by the combined nations of the entire world, during the experience of three centuries, and apparently deepened by their advancing civilization. Give us rules and modifications, give us guides and correctives, give us warnings against excess, precipitancy, and neglect of other enjoyments, or of important duties, if you will. The urbane aestheticism that regulates pleasure also limits it; and true refinement ever modifies the indulgence it pervades. But it is emulating Mrs. Partington and her mop to attempt to preach down a world. When they do agree, their unanimity is irresistible. Prohibition may give zest to enjoyment, and provocation to curiosity, but can never overcome the instincts of nature or cravings of nervous irritability, and he who rises in rebellion against her absolute decree will respect the limits and study the laws of a recognized and regulated enjoyment.

"Let, then, the moralist point out what social duties may be imperilled; let the physician apprise us of the disorders to be guarded against; and let the lover of elegance see that no neglect or slight awaits her. Of abstract arguments we have seen the futility, of moral and medical crusades even the most patient are weary, and we gladly turn to something real, in the suffrages of a by-gone great man of acknowledged fame—Ben Jonson. Ben Jonson loved the 'durne weed,' and describes its every accident with the gusto of a connoisseur. Hobbes smoked, after his early dinner, pipes innumerable. Milton never went to bed without a pipe and a glass of water, which I cannot help associating with his:

'Adam waked, So custom'd, for his sleep was aery light, of pure digestion bred And temperate vapors bland!'

"Sir Isaac Newton was smoking in his garden at Woolsthorpe when the apple fell. Addison had a pipe in his mouth at all hours, at 'Buttons.' Fielding both smoked and chewed. About 1740 it became unfashionable, and was banished from St. James' to the country squires and parsons. Squire Western, in Tom Jones, arriving in town, sends off Parson Supple to Basingstoke, where he had left his Tobacco-box! The snuff-box was substituted. Lord Mark Kerr, a brave officer who affected the petit maitre (a la Pelham, in Lord Lytton's second novel), invented the invisible hinges, and it was this 'going out of fashion' that Jonson alluded to in 1774.



"We next find Tobacco rearing its head under the auspices of Paley and Parr. Paley had one of the most orderly minds ever given to man. A vein of shrewd and humorous sarcasm, together with an under-current of quiet selfishness, made him a very pleasant companion. 'I cannot afford to keep a conscience any more than a carriage,' was worthy of Erasmus, perhaps of Robelais. 'Our delight was,' said an old Jonsonian to the writer, 'to get old Paley, on a cold winter's night, to put up his legs, wrap them well up, stir the fire, and fill him a long Dutch pipe; he would talk away, sir, like a being of a higher sphere. He declined any punch, but drank it up as fast as we replenished his glass. He would smoke any given quantity of Tobacco, and drink any given quantity of punch.'

"Parr smoked ostentatiously and vainly, as he did everything. He used only the finest Tobacco, half-filling his pipe with salt. He wrote and read, and smoked and wrote, rising early, and talking fustian. He was a sort of miniature Brummagem Johnson. Except his preface to Bellendenus, you might burn all he has written. His 'Life of Fox' is beneath contempt. His letters are simply laughable, especially his characters of contemporaries. He, however, was an amiable and good-natured man, and had sufficient humanity to regard dissent as an impediment to his recognition of intellectual or moral worth. Parr was an arrogant old coxcomb, who abused the respectful kindness he received, and took his pipe into drawing-rooms. I pass over the Duke of Bridgewater, because he was early crossed in love by a most beautiful girl, could not bear the sight of a flower even growing, and passed life in a pot-house with a pipe, listening to Brindley, whose intellect and dialect must have been alike incomprehensible to him.

"The cigar appeared about 1812; it received the countenance of the Regent, who had hitherto confined himself to macobau snuff, scented with lavender and the tonquin bean. Porson smoked many bundles of cheroots, which nabobs began to import. After 1815 the continental visits were resumed, and the practice of smoking began steadily to increase. The German china bowl with globular receiver of the essential oil, the absorbent meerschaum, the red Turkish bell-shaped clay, the elaborate hookah,—a really elegant ornament, and perhaps the most healthful and rational form of smoking,—pipes of all shapes, began to fill the shops of London. Coleridge, when cured of opium, took to snuff. Byron wrote dashingly about 'sublime Tobacco,' but I do not think he carried the practice to excess. Shelley never smoked, nor Wordsworth, nor Keats. Campbell loved a pipe. John Gibson Lockhart was seldom without a cigar. Sir Walter Scott smoked in his carriage, and regularly after dinner, loving both pipes and cigars. Professor Wilson smoked steadily, as did Charles Lamb. Carlyle, now somewhat past seventy, has been a sturdy smoker for years. Goethe did not smoke, neither did Shakespeare. I cannot recall a single allusion to Tobacco in all his plays; even Sir Toby Belch does not add the pipe to his burnt sack. But Shakespeare hated every form of debauchery. The penitence of Cassio is more prominent than was his fun. 'What! drunk? and talk fustian and speak parrot, and discourse with one's shadow?' Shakespeare held drunkenness in disgust. Even Falstaff is more an intellectual man than a sot. What actor could play Falstaff after riding forty miles and being well thrashed? Yet, when Falstaff sustains the evening at the Boar's Head, he has ridden to Gadshill and back, forty-four miles! No palsied sot, he. Hamlet's disgust at his countrymen is well known. 'Grim death, how foul and loathsome is thine image!' is the comment on the drunken Kit Sly. In short, when you look at the smooth, happy, half-feminine face of Shakespeare, you see one to whom all forms of debauchery were ungenial. A courtier certainly, and a lover of money. The king had written against Tobacco, and Will Shakespeare set his watch to the time. Raleigh and Coliban Jonson might smoke at the Mermaid—Will kept his head clear and his doublet sweet.



"Alfred Tennyson is a persistent smoker of some forty years. Dickens, Jerrold and Thackeray all puffed. Lord Lytton loves a long pipe at night and cigars by day. Lord Houghton smokes moderately. The late J. M. Kemble, author of 'The Seasons in England,' was a tremendous smoker. Moore cared not for it; indeed, I think that Irish gentlemen smoke much less than English. Wellington shunned it; so did Peel. D'Israeli loved the long pipe in his youth, but in middle age pronounced it 'the tomb of love.' While I am writing, it is not too much to aver that 99 persons out of 100, taken at random, under forty years of age, smoke habitually every day of their lives. How many in Melbourne injure wealth and brain, I leave to more skilled and morose critics. But my mind misgives me. Paralysis is becoming very frequent.

"I have seen stone pipes from Gambia, shaped like the letter U consisting each of one solid flint, hollowed through, also hookahs made by sailors with cocoanut shells. All, however, now agree that it is impossible to have either comfortable, cool, or safe smoking, unless through a substance like clay, porous and absorbent, especially as portable pipes are the mode. Those of black charcoal are not handsome; indeed, I always feel like a mute at a funeral while smoking one, but they are delightfully cool, absorbing more essential oil of nicotine, and more quickly than any meerschaum. I caution the smoker to have an old glove on; as these pipes 'sweat,' the oil comes through, and nothing is more pertinacious than oil of tobacco when it sinks into your pores, or floats about hair or clothes. My own taste inclines to the German receiver, long cherry tube and amber, and to my own garden, for all street smoking is unaesthetic, and the traveller by coach, boat, or rail has the tastes of others to consult. Surely it is not urbane to throw on another the burden of saying that he likes not the smell or the inhaling of burning tobacco. Better postpone your solace to more fitting time and place—the close of day and your own veranda. Indoor smoking is detestable. Life has few direr disenchanters than the morning smells of obsolete tobacco, relics though they be of hesternal beatitude. Give me, in robe or jacket, a hookah, or German arrangement, Chinese recumbency in matted and moistened veranda, and the odors of fresh growing beds of flowers wafted by the southern breeze. Nor be wanting the fragrant perfume of coffee. 'Meat without salt,' says Hafiz, 'is even as tobacco without coffee.' The tannin of the coffee corrects the nicotine. And it may not be amiss to learn that a plate of watercress, salt, and a large glass of cold water should be at hand to the smoker by day; the watercress corrects any excess, and is at hand in a garden. Smoke not before breakfast, nor till an hour has elapsed after a good meal. Smoke not with or before wine, you destroy the wine-palate. If you love tea, postpone pipe till after it; no man can enjoy fine tea who has smoked. In short, smoke not till the day is done, with all its tasks and duties.

"I have seen men of pretension and position treat carpets most contumeliously, trampling on the pride of Plato with a recklessness that would bring a blush to the cheek of Diogenes himself. Can they forget the absorbent powers of carpet tissues, and the horrors of next morning to non-smokers, perhaps to ladies? Surely this is unaesthetic and illiberal: it is in an old man most pitiable, in a young one intolerable, in a scholar inexcusable, from an uncleanness that seems willful. Let the young philosopher avoid such practice, and give a wide berth to those who follow them. Take the following rules, tyro, meo periculo:—

1. Never smoke when the pores are open: they absorb, and you are unfit for decent society. Be it your study ever to escape the noses of strangers. First impressions are sometimes permanent, and you may lose a useful acquaintance.

2. Learn to smoke slowly. Cultivate 'calm and intermittent puffs.'—Walter Scott.

3. On the first symptom of expectoration lay down the pipe, or throw away the cigar; long-continued expectoration is destructive to yourself and revolting to every spectator.

4. Let an interval elapse between the filling of succeeding pipes.

5. Clean your tube regularly, and your amber mouthpiece with a feather dipped in spirits of lavender. Never suffer the conduit to remain discolored or stuffed.

6. A German receiver can be washed out like a teacup, and the oil collected is of value, but a meerschaum should never be wetted. A small sponge at the end of a wire dipped in sweet oil should be used carefully and persistently round and round, coaxing out any hard concretions, till the inside be smooth in its dark polished grain, of a rich mahogany tint. The outside, also, well polished with sweet oil and stale milk, then enveloped in chamois leather. The rich dark coloring is the pledge of your safety—better there than darkening your own brains.

"The pale gold c'noster and Turkey have now given way to the splendid varieties of America, and my knowledge halts behind the age. The black sticks resembling lollipops are said to be compounds of rum, bullocks' blood and tobacco lees. A taste for them, when once contracted, is abiding. Fine volatile tobacco, with aromatic delicacy, requires a long tube; used in a short pipe of modern fashion, they parch and shrivel the tongue. In short, what is true of all other pleasures is also true of tobacco-smoking. Fruition is sometimes too rapid for enjoyment, as the dram-drinker is less wise than the calm imbiber of the fragrant vintage of the Garonne. With Burke's common sense I began, and with it I end. Depurate vice of all her offensiveness, and you prune her of half her evil. Let not your love of indulgence be so inordinate as to purchase short pleasure by impairing health, neglecting duty, or, while promoting your own self-complacency, allow yourself to become permanently revolting to society, by offending more senses as well as more principles than one.'"



Mantegazza, one of the most brilliant of all writers on tobacco, in alluding to the enchantment of the "weed," says:—

"If a winged inhabitant of some remote world felt the impulse to traverse space, and, with an astronomical map, to fly round our planetary system, he would at once recognize the earth by the odor of tobacco which it exhales, forasmuch as all known nations smoke the nicotian herb. And thousands and thousands of men, if compelled to limit themselves to a single nervous aliment, would relinquish wine and coffee, opium and brandy, and cling fondly to the precious narcotic leaf. Before Columbus, tobacco was not smoked except in America; and now, after a lapse of a few centuries in the furthest part of China and in Japan, in the island of Oceanica as in Lapland and Siberia, rises from the hut of the savage and from the palace of the prince, along with the smoke of the fireplace, where man bakes his bread and warms his heart, another odorous smoke, which man inhales and breathes forth again to soothe his pain and to vanquish fatigue and anxiety.

"In the early times of the introduction of tobacco, smokers in many countries were condemned to infamous and cruel punishments; had their noses and their lips cut off, and with blackened faces and mounted on an ass, exposed to the coarse jests of the vilest vagabonds and the insults of the multitude. But now the hangman smokes, and the criminal condemned to death smokes before being hanged. The king in his gilt coach smokes; and the assassin smokes who lies in wait to throw down before the feet of the horses the murderous bomb. The human family spends every year two thousand six hundred and seventy millions of francs (about a hundred millions in English money) on tobacco, which is not food, which is not drink, and without which it contrived to live for a long succession of ages.

"In the discomfitures and disasters which befell the Army of Lavalle, in the civil wars of the Argentine Republic, the poor fugitives had to suffer the most horrible privations, which can be imagined. By degrees the tobacco came to an end, and the Argentines smoked dry leaves. One man, more fortunate than his comrades, continued to use with much economy the most precious of all his stores—tobacco. A fellow soldier begged to be allowed to put the economist's pipe in his own mouth, and thus to inhale at second-hand the adored smoke, paying two dollars for the privilege. What is more striking still, when, in 1843, the convicts in the prison of Epinal, France, who had for some time been deprived of tobacco, rose in revolt, their cry was 'tobacco or death!' When Col. Seybourg was marching in the interior of Surinam against negro rebels, and the soldiers had to bear the most awful hardships, they smoked paper, they chewed leaves and leather, and found the lack of tobacco the greatest of all their trials and torments."

Elsewhere, inquiring what nervous aliments harmonize the one with the other, he says:—

"The only, the true, the legitimate companion of coffee is the nicotian plant; and wisely and well the Turkish epicures declare that for coffee—the drink of Heaven—tobacco is the salt. The smoke of a puro, of a manilla, or of real Turkish tobacco, which passes amorously through the voluptuous tip of amber, blends magnificently with the austere aroma of the coffee, and the inebriated palate is agitated between a caress and a rebuke."

From a Southern paper we extract these whimsical lines. "On the Great Fall in the Price of Tobacco in 1801," by Hugh Montgomery, Lynchburgh, Va.,

"Lately a planter chanced to pop His head into a barber's shop— Begged to be shaved; it soon was done, When Strap (inclined oft-times to fun,) Doubling the price he'd asked before, Instead of two pence made it four. The planter said, 'You sure must grant, Your charge is most exhorbitant.' 'Not so,' quoth Strap, 'I'm right and you are wrong, For since tobacco fell, your face is twice as long.'"

Another quaint whim in the form of an advertisement for a lost meerschaum is from an Australian paper:

"To Honest men and others,—Driving from Hale Town to Bridgetown, on Sunday, last, the advertiser lost a cigar holder with the face of a pretty girl on it. The intrinsic value of the missing article is small, but as the owner has been for the last few months converting the young lady from a blonde into a brunette, he would be glad to get it back again. If it was picked up by a gentleman, on reading this notice, he will, of course, send it to the address below. If it was picked up by a poor man, who could get a few shillings by selling it, on his bringing it to the address below, he shall be paid the full amount of its intrinsic value. If it was picked up by a thief, let him deliver it, and he shall be paid a like amount, and thus for once can do an honest action, without being a penny the worse for it."

A humorous writer thus discourses on man, who he denominates as "common clays": "Yet we are all common clays! There are long clays and short clays, coarse clays and refined clays, and the latter are pretty scarce, that's a fact. To follow out the simile, life is the tobacco with which we are loaded, and when the vital spark is applied we live; when that tobacco is exhausted we die, the essence of our life ascending from the lukewarm clay when the last fibre burns out, as a curl of smoke from the ashes in the bowl of the pipe, and mingling with the perfumed breeze of heaven, or the hot breath of—well, never mind; we hope not. Then the clay is cold, and glows no more from the fire within; the pipe is broken, and ceases to comfort and console. We say, 'A friend has left us,' or 'Poor old Joe; his pipe is out.' We have all a certain supply of life, or, if we would pursue the comparison, a share of tobacco. Some young men smoke too rapidly, even voraciously, and thus exhaust their share before their proper time,—then we say they have 'lived too fast,' or 'pulled at their pipes too hard.' Others, on the contrary, make their limited supply go a long way, and when they are taking their last puffs of life's perfumed plant their energy is unimpaired; they can run a race, walk a mile with any one, and show few wrinkles upon their brow.



"A delicate person is like a pipe with a crack in the bowl, for it takes continued and careful pulling to keep his light in; and to take life is like willfully dashing a lighted pipe from the mouth into fragments, and scattering the sparks to the four winds of heaven. An artist is a good coloring pipe; an attractive orator is a pipe that draws well; a communist is a foul pipe; a well-educated woman whose conversation is attractive is a pipe with a nice mouthpiece; a girl of the period is a fancy pipe, the ornament of which is liable to chip; a female orator on woman's rights is invariably a plain pipe; an old toper is a well-seasoned pipe; an escaped thief is a cutty pipe, and the policeman in pursuit is a shilling pipe, for is he not a Bob?"

From these ingenious "conceits" we turn to a few thoughts on the present condition and history of the plant.



The calumet or pipe of peace, decorated with all the splendor of savage taste, is smoked by the red man to ratify good feeling or confirm some treaty of peace. The energetic Yankee bent upon the accomplishment of his ends, puffs vigorously at his cigar and with scarcely a passing notice, strides over obstacles that lie in his path of whatever nature they may be. The dancing Spaniard with his eternal castanets whispers but a word to his dark-eyed senorita as he hands her another perfumed cigarette. The lounging Italian hissing intrigues under the shadow of an ancient portico, smokes on as he stalks over the proud place where the blood of Caesar dyed the stones of the Capitol, or where the knife of Virginius flashed in the summer sun. The Turk comes forth from the Mosque only to smoke. The priest of Nicaragua with solemn mien strides up the aisle and lights the altar candles with the fire struck from his cigar. The hardy Laplander invites the stranger to his hut and offers him his pipe while he inquires, if he comes from the land of tobacco. The indigent Jakut exchanges his most valuable furs and skins for a few ounces of the "Circassian weed." Its charms are recognized by the gondolier of Venice and the Muleteer of Spain. The Switzer lights his pipe amid Alpine heights. The tourist climbing AEtna, or Vesuvius' rugged side, puffs on though they perchance have long since ceased to smoke. Tobacco, soothed the hardships of Cromwell's soldiers and gave novelty to the court life of the daughters of Louis XIV, delighted the courtiers of Queen Elizabeth and bidding defiance to the ire of her successors, the Stuarts, has never ceased to hold sway over court and camp, as well as over the masses of the people.

In nothing cultivated has there been so remarkable a development. Originally limited to the natives of America, it attracted the attention of Europeans who by cultivation increased the size and quality of the plant. But not alone has the plant improved in form and quality, the rude implements once used by the Indians have given away (even among themselves) to those of improved form and modern style. These facts are without a doubt among the most curious that commerce presents. That a plant primarily used only by savages, should succeed in spite of the greatest opposition in becoming one of the greatest luxuries of the civilized world, is a fact without parallel. It can almost be said, so universally is it used, that its claims are recognized by all. Though hated by kings and popes it was highly esteemed by their subjects. Their delight in the new found novelty was unbounded and doubtless they could sing in praise as Byron did in later times of:

"Sublime tobacco which from East to West Cheers the tar's labor and the Turkman's rest."



CHAPTER VIII.

SNUFF, SNUFF-BOXES AND SNUFF-TAKERS.

The custom of snuff-taking is as old at least as the discovery of the tobacco plant. The first account we have of it is given by Roman Pane, the friar who accompanied Columbus on his second voyage of discovery (1494), and who alludes to its use among the Indians by means of a cane half a cubit long. Ewbank says:

"Much has been written on a revolution so unique in its origin, unsurpassed in incidents and results, and constituting one of the most singular episodes in human history; but next to nothing is recorded of whence the various processes of manufacture and uses were derived. Some imagine the popular pabulum[56] for the nose of translantic origin. No such thing! Columbus first beheld smokers in the Antilles. Pizarro found chewers in Peru, but it was in the country discovered by Cabral that the great sternutatory was originally found. Brazilian Indians were the Fathers of snuff, and its best fabricators. Though counted among the least refined of aborigines, their taste in this matter was as pure as that of the fashionable world of the East. Their snuff has never been surpassed, nor their apparatus for making it."

[Footnote 56: Dr. John Hill in his tract "Cautions against the immoderate use of snuff" gives the following definition of it. "The dried leaves of tobacco, rasped, beaten, or otherwise reduced to powder, make what we call snuff." This tract was published in 1761. The author, afterwards Sir John Hill, was equally celebrated as a physician and a writer of farces, as denoted by the following epigram by Garrick:

"For physic and farces his equal there scarce is; His farces are physic, his physic a farce is."]

Soon after the introduction and cultivation of tobacco in Spain and Portugal its use in the form of snuff came in vogue and from these notions it spread rapidly over Europe, particularly in France and Italy. It is said to have been used first in France[57] by the wife of Henry II., Catherine de Medici, and that it was first used at court during the latter part of the Sixteenth Century. The Queen seemed to give it a good standing in society and it soon became the fashion to use the powder by placing a little on the back of the hand and inhaling it. The use of snuff greatly increased from the fact of its supposed medicinal properties and its curative powers in all diseases, particularly those affecting the head, hence the wide introduction of snuff-taking in Europe. Fairholt says of its early use:

[Footnote 57: An English writer gives a different account—"The custom of taking snuff as a nasal gratification does not appear to be of earlier date than 1620, though the powdered leaves of tobacco were occasionally prescribed as a medicine long before that time. It appears to have first become prevalent in Spain, and from thence to have passed into Italy and France."]

"Though thus originally recommended for adoption as a medicine, it soon became better known as a luxury and the gratification of a pinch was generally indulged in Spain, Italy and France, during the early part of the Seventeenth Century. It was the grandees of the French Court who 'set the fashion' of snuff, with all its luxurious additions of scents and expensive boxes. It became common in the Court of Louis le Grand, although that monarch had a decided antipathy to tobacco in any form."

Says an English writer "Between 1660 and 1700, the custom of taking snuff, though it was disliked by Louis XIV., was almost as prevalent in France as it is at the present time. In this instance, the example of the monarch was disregarded; tobac en poudre or tobac rape[58] as snuff was sometimes called found favor in the noses of the French people; and all men of fashion prided themselves on carrying a handsome snuff-box. Ladies also took snuff; and the belle whose grace and propriety of demeanour were themes of general admiration, thought it not unbecoming to take a pinch at dinner, or to blow her pretty nose in her embroidered mouchoir with the sound of a trombone. Louis endeavored to discourage the use of snuff and his valets-de-chambre were obliged to renounce it when they were appointed to their office. One of these gentlemen, the Duc d'Harcourt, was supposed to have died of apoplexy in consequence of having, in order to please the king, totally discontinued the habit which he had before indulged to excess."

[Footnote 58: Grated tobacco.]

Other grandees were less accommodating: thus we are told that Marechal d'Huxelles used to cover his cravat and dress with it. The Royal Physician, Monsieur Fagon, is reported to have devoted his best energies to a public oration of a very violent kind against snuff, which unfortunately failed to convince his auditory, as the excited lecturer in his most enthusiastic moments refreshed his nose with a pinch.



Although disliked by the most polished prince of Europe, the use of snuff increased and soon spread outside the limits of the court of France and in a short time became a favorite mode of using tobacco as it continues to be with many at this day.[59] The snuff-boxes of this period were very elegant and were decorated with elaborate paintings or set with gems. It was the custom to carry both a snuff-box and a tobacco grater, which was often as expensive and elegant as the snuff-box itself. Many of them were richly carved and ornamented in the most superb manner. Others bore the titles and arms of the owner and it was considered as part of a courtier's outfit to sport a magnificent box and grater. The French mode of manufacturing snuff was to saturate the leaves in water, then dry them and color according to the shade desired. The perfume was then added and the snuff was prepared for use. The kind of tobacco used was "Tobac de Virginie." Spanish snuff was perfumed in the same manner with the additional use of orange-flower water. Carver gives the mode of manufacturing snuff in America (1779).

[Footnote 59: The Rev. S. Wesley speaking of the abuses of tobacco, intimates that the human ear, will not long, remain exempted from its affliction.

"To such a height with some is fashion grown They feed they very nostrils with a spoon. One, and but one degree is wanting yet, To make their senseless luxury complete; Some choice regale, useless as snuff and dear, To feed the mazy windings of the ear."]

"Being possessed of a tobacco wheel, which is a very simple machine, they spin the leaves, after they are properly cured, into a twist of any size they think fit; and having folded it into rolls of about twenty pounds weight each, they lay it by for use. In this state it will keep for several years, and be continually improving, as it every hour grows milder. When they have occasion to use it, they take off such a length as they think necessary, which, if designed for smoking, they cut into small pieces, for chewing into larger, as choice directs; if they intend to make snuff of it they take a quantity from the roll, and laying it in a room where a fire is kept, in a day or two it will become dry, and being rubbed on a grater will produce a genuine snuff. Those in more improved regions who like their snuff scented, apply to it such odoriferous waters as they can procure, or think most pleasing."

Dutch snuff was only partially ground, and was therefore coarse and harsh in its effects when inhaled into the nostrils. The Irish, according to Everards, used large quantities of snuff "to purge their brains." Snuff-taking became general in England[60] at the commencement of the Seventeenth Century, and scented snuffs were used in preference to the plain. Frequent mention is made in the plays of this time of its use and varieties. In Congreve's "Love for Love," one of the characters presents a young lady with a box of snuff, on receipt of which she says, "Look you here what Mr. Tattle has given me! Look you here, cousin, here's a snuff-box; nay, there's snuff in't: here, will you have any? Oh, good! how sweet it is!"

[Footnote 60: "The custom of taking snuff was probably brought into England by some of the followers of Charles II., about the time of the Restoration. During his reign, and that of his brother, it does not appear to have gained much ground: but towards the end of the Seventeenth Century it had become quite the "rage" with beaux, who at that period, as well as in the reign of Queen Anne, sometimes carried their snuff in the hollow ivory heads of their canes."—A Paper of Tobacco.]

Portuguese snuff seemed to be in favor and was delicately perfumed. It was made from the fibres of the leaves, and was considered among many to be the finest kind of the "pungent dust." Some varieties of snuff were named after the scents employed in flavoring them. In France many kinds became popular from the fact of their use at court, and by the courtiers throughout the kingdom. Pope notes the use of the snuff-box by the fops and courtiers of his time in this manner:—

"Sir Plume of amber snuff-box justly vain, And the nice conduct of a clouded cane; With earnest eyes, and round, unthinking face, He first the snuff-box open'd, then the case."

The mode of "tapping the box" before opening was characteristic of the beaux and fops of this period, and is commented on in a poem on snuff:—

"The lawyer so grave, when he opens his case, In obscurity finds it is hid, Till the bright glass of knowledge illumines his face, As he gives the three taps on the lid."

Spain, Portugal, and France early in the Seventeenth Century became noted as the producers of the finest kinds of snuff. In Spain and Portugal it was the favorite mode of using tobacco, and rare kinds were compounded and sold at enormous prices. Its use in France by the fair sex is thus commented on by a French writer:—



"Everything in France depends upon la mode; and it has pleased la mode to patronize this disgusting custom, and carry about with them small boxes which they term demi-journees."

The most expensive materials were employed in the manufacture of snuff-boxes, such as agate, mosaics, and all kinds of rare wood, while many were of gold, studded with diamonds. Some kinds were made of China mounted in metal, and were very fanciful. In "Pandora's Box," a "Satyr against Snuff," 1719, may be found the following description of the snuff-boxes then in vogue:

"For females fair, and formal fops to please, The mines are robb'd of ore, of shells the seas, With all that mother-earth and beast afford To man, unworthy now, tho' once their lord: Which wrought into a box, with all the show Of art the greatest artist can bestow; Charming in shape, with polished rays of light, A joint so fine it shuns the sharpest sight; Must still be graced with all the radiant gems And precious stones that e'er arrived in Thames. Within the lid the painter plays his part, And with his pencil proves his matchless art; There drawn to life some spark or mistress dwells, Like hermits chaste and constant to their cells."

Some of the more highly perfumed snuffs sold for thirty shillings a pound, while the cheaper kinds, such as English Rappee and John's Lane, could be bought for two or three shillings per pound. There are at least two hundred kinds of snuff well known in commerce. The Scotch and Irish snuffs are for the most part made from the midribs; the Strasburgh, French, Spanish, and Russian snuffs from the soft parts of the leaves. An English writer gives the following account of some of the well-known snuffs and the method of manufacturing:—

"For the famous fancy snuff known as Maroco, the recipe is to take forty parts of French or St. Omer tobacco, with twenty parts of fermented Virginia stalks in powder; the whole to be ground and sifted. To this powder must be added two pounds and a half of rose leaves in fine powder; and the whole must be moistened with salt and water and thoroughly incorporated. After that it must be 'worked up' with cream and salts of tartar, and packed in lead to preserve its delicate aroma. The celebrated 'gros grain Paris snuff' is composed of equal parts of Amersfoort and James River tobacco, and the scent is imported by a 'sauce,' among the ingredients of which are salt, soda, tamarinds, red wine, syrup, cognac, and cream of tartar."

The mode of manufacture of snuff now is far different than that employed in the Seventeenth Century. Then the leaves were simply dried and made fine by rubbing them together in the hands, or ground in some rude mill; still later the tobacco was washed or cleansed in water, dried, and then ground. Now, however, the tobacco undergoes quite a process, and must be kept packed several months before it is ground into snuff. One of the most celebrated manufacturers of snuff was James Gillespie, of Edinburgh, who compounded the famous variety bearing his name. The following account of him we take from "The Tobacco Plant:"—



"In the High Street of Edinburgh, a little east from the place where formerly stood the Cross,—

"'Dun-Edin's Cross, a pillar'd stone, Rose on a turret octagon,'

was situated the shop of James Gillespie, the celebrated snuff manufacturer. The shop is still occupied by a tobacconist, whose sign is the head of a typical negro, and in one of the windows is exhibited the effigy of a Highlander, who is evidently a competent judge of 'sneeshin.' Not much is known regarding the personal history of James Gillespie, but it is understood that he was born shortly after the Jacobite rebellion of 1715, at Roslin, a picturesque village about six miles from Edinburgh. He became a tobacconist in Edinburgh, along with his brother John, and by the exercise of steady industry and frugality, he was enabled to purchase Spylaw, a small estate in the parish of Colinton, about four miles from Edinburgh, where he erected a snuff-mill on the banks of the Water of Leith, a small stream which flows through the finely-wooded grounds of Spylaw. The younger brother, John, attended to the shop, while the subject of our notice resided at Spylaw, where he superintended the snuff-mill. Mr. Gillespie was able to continue his industrious habits through a long life, and having made some successful speculations in tobacco during the war of American Independence, when the 'weed' advanced considerably in price, he was enabled to increase his Spylaw estate from time to time by making additional purchases of property in the parish.

"Mr. Gillespie remained through life a bachelor. His establishment at Spylaw was of the simplest description. It is said that he invariably sat at the same table with his servants, indulging in familiar conversation, and entering with much spirit into their amusements. Newspapers were not so widely circulated at that period as they are now, and on the return of any of his domestics from the city, which one of them daily visited, he listened with great attention to the 'news, and enjoyed with much zest the narration of any jocular incident that had occurred. Mr. Gillespie had a penchant for animals, and their wants were carefully attended to. His poultry, equally with his horses, could have testified to the judicious attention which he bestowed upon them. A story is told of the familiarity between the laird and his riding horse, which was well-fed and full of spirit.

"The animal frequently indulged in a little restive curvetting with its master, especially when the latter was about to get into the saddle. 'Come, come,' he would say, on such occasions, addressing the animal in his usual quiet way, 'hae dune, noo, for ye'll no like if I come across your lugs (ears) wi' the stick.'

"Even in his old age Mr. Gillespie regularly superintended the operations in the mill, which was situated in the rear of his house. On these occasions he was wrapped in an old blanket ingrained with snuff. Though he kept a carriage he very seldom used it, until shortly before his death, when increasing infirmities caused him occasionally to take a drive. It was of this carriage, plain and neat in its design, with nothing on its panel but the initials 'J. G.' that the witty Henry Erskine proposed the couplet—

'Who would have thought it That noses had bought it?'

as an appropriate motto. In those days snuff was much more extensively used than at present, and Mr. Gillespie was in the habit of gratuitously filling the 'mulls' of many of the Edinburgh characters of the last century. Colinton appears to have been a great snuff-making centre. About thirty years ago there were five snuff mills in operation in the parish, the produce of which was sold in Edinburgh. Even now a considerable quantity of snuff is made in the district, chiefly by grinders to the trade."

Murray, alluding to the popularity of the custom in England during the reign of the House of Brunswick, says:—



"The reigns of the four Georges may be entitled the snuffing period of English history. The practice became an appanage of fashion before 1714, as it has continued after 1830, to be the comfort of priests, literary men, highlanders, tailors, factory hands, and old people of both sexes. George IV. was a nasute judge of snuffs, and so enamoured of the delectation, that in each of his palaces he kept a jar chamber, containing a choice assortment of tobacco powder, presided over by a critical superintendent. His favorite stimulant in the morning was violet Strasburgh, the same which had previously helped Queen Charlotte to 'kill the day'—after dinner Carrotte—named from his penchant for it. King's Carrotte, Martinique, Etrenne, Old Paris, Bureau, Cologne, Bordeaux, Havre, Princeza, Rouen, and Rappee, were placed on the table, in as many rich and curious boxes."

Sterne, in his "Sentimental Journey," gives a pleasing description of snuff-taking with the poor monk. He writes:

"The good old monk was within six paces of us, as the idea of him crossed my mind; and was advancing towards us a little out of the line, as if uncertain whether he should break in upon us or no. He stoop'd, however, as soon as he came up to us with a world of frankness; and having a horn snuff-box in his hand, he presented it open to me.

"'You shall taste mine,' said I, pulling out my box (which was a small tortoise one), and putting it into his hand.

"''Tis most excellent,' said the monk.

"'Then do me the favor,' I replied 'to accept of the box and all, and when you take a pinch out of it, sometimes recollect it was the peace-offering of a man who once used you unkindly, but not from his heart.'

"The poor monk blushed as red as scarlet, 'Mon Dieu?' said he, pressing his hands together, 'you never used me unkindly.'

"'I should think,' said the lady, 'he is not likely.'

I blushed in my turn; but from what motives, I leave to the few who feel to analyze. 'Excuse me, madam,' replied I, 'I treated him most unkindly, and from no provocations.'

"''Tis impossible,' said the lady.

"'My God!' cried the monk, with a warmth of asseveration which seemed not to belong to him, 'the fault was in me, and in the indiscretion of my zeal.'

"The lady opposed it, and I joined with her in maintaining it was impossible, that a spirit so regulated as his could give offence to any. I knew not that contention could be rendered so sweet and pleasurable a thing to the nerves as I then felt it. We remained silent, without any sensation of that foolish pain which takes place when, in a circle, you look for ten minutes in one another's faces without saying a word.



"Whilst this lasted, the monk rubb'd his horn box upon the sleeve of his tunic; and as soon as it had acquired a little air of brightness by the friction, he made a low bow and said, 'twas too late to say whether it was the weakness or goodness of our tempers which had involved us in this contest, but be it as it would, he begg'd we would exchange boxes. In saying this, he presented this to me with one, as he took mine from me in the other; and having kissed it, with a stream of good nature in his eyes, he put it into his bosom, and took his leave. I guard this box as I would the instrumental parts of my religion, to help my mind on to something better: in truth I seldom go abroad without it; and oft and many a time have I called up by it the courteous spirit of its owner, to regulate my own in the jostlings of the world; they had found full employment for his, as I learnt from his story, till about the forty-fifth year of his age, when upon some military services ill-requited, and meeting at the same time with a disappointment in the tenderest of passions, he abandoned the sword and the sex together, and took sanctuary, not so much in his convent as in himself. I feel a damp upon my spirits, as I am going to add, that in my last return through Calais, upon inquiring after Father Lorenzo, I heard he had been dead near three months, and was buried, not in his convent, but according to his desire, in a little cemetery belonging to it about two leagues off. I had a strong desire to see where they had laid him, when, upon pulling out his little horn box, as I sat by his grave, and plucking a nettle or two at the head of it, which had no business to grow there, they all struck together so forcibly upon my affections that I burst into a flood of tears—but I am as weak as a woman; I beg the world not to smile, but pity me."

Many pleasing effusions have been written promoted doubtless by a sneeze among which the following on "A pinch of Snuff" from "The Sportsman Magazine," exhibits the custom and the benefits ascribed to its indulgence.

"With mind or body sore distrest, Or with repeated cares opprest, What sets the aching heart at rest? A pinch of snuff!

"Or should some sharp and gnawing pain Creep round the noddle of the brain, What puts all things to rights again? A pinch of snuff!

"When speech and tongue together fail, What helps old ladies in their tale, And adds fresh canvass to their sail? A pinch of snuff!

"Or when some drowsy parson prays, And still more drowsy people gaze, What opes their eyelids with amaze? A pinch of snuff!

"A comfort which they can't forsake, What is it some would rather take, Than good roast beef, or rich plum cake? A pinch of snuff!

"Should two old gossips chance to sit, And sip their slop, and talk of it, What gives a sharpness to their wit? A pinch of snuff!

"What introduces Whig or Tory, And reconciles them in their story, When each is boasting in his glory? A pinch of snuff!

"What warms without a conflagration Excites without intoxication, And rouses without irritation? A pinch of snuff!

"When friendship fades, and fortune's spent, And hope seems gone the way they went, One cheering ray of joy is sent— A pinch of snuff!

"Then let us sing in praise of snuff! And call it not such 'horrid stuff,' At which some frown, and others puff, And seem to flinch.

"But when a friend presents a box, Avoid the scruples and the shocks Of him who laughs and he who mocks, And take a pinch!"

From "Pandora's Box" from which we have already quoted, we extract the following in which the use of snuff is deprecated by the author:

—"now, 'tis by every sort And sex adored, from Billingsgate to court. But ask a dame 'how oysters sell?' if nice, She begs a pinch before she sets a price. Go thence to 'Change, inquire the price of Stocks; Before they ope their lips they open first the box. Next pay a visit to the Temple, where The lawyers live, who gold to Heaven prefer; You'll find them stupify'd to that degree, They'll take a pinch before they'll take their fee. Then make a step and view the splendid court, Where all the gay, the great, the good resort; E'en they, whose pregnant skulls, though large and thick, Can scarce secure their native sense and wit, Are feeding of their hungry souls with pure Ambrosial snuff. * * * * But to conclude: the gaudy court resign, T' observe, for once, a place much more divine, When the same folly's acted by the good, And is the sole devotion of the lewd; The church, more sacred once, is what we mean, Where now they flock to see and to be seen; The box is used, the book laid by, as dead, With snuff, not Scripture, there the soul is fed; For where to heaven the hands by one of those, Are lifted, twenty have them at the nose; And while some pray, to be from sudden death Deliver'd, others snuff to stop their breath."

Paolo Mantegazza, one of the most brilliant and witty of Italian writers on tobacco, says of its use and "some of the delights that may be imagined through the sense of smell:"—

"Human civilization has not yet learned to found on the sense of smell aught but the moderate enjoyment derived from snuffing, which, confined within the narrow circle of a few sensations, renders us incapable of entering into the most delicate pleasures of that sense.

"Snuff procures us the rapture of a tactile irritation, of a slight perfume; but, above all, it furnishes the charm of an intermittent occupation which soothes us by interrupting, from time to time, our labor. At other times it renders idleness less insupportable to us, by breaking it into the infinite intervals which pass from one pinch of snuff to another. Sometimes our snuff-box arouses us from torpor and drowsiness; sometimes, it occupies our hands when in society we do not know where to put them or what to do with them. Finally, snuff and snuffing are things which we can love, because they are always with us; and we can season them with a little vanity if we possess a snuff-box of silver or of gold, which we open continually before those who humbly content themselves with snuff-boxes of bone or of wood. We gladly concede the pleasures of snuffing to men of all conditions, and to ladies who, having passed a certain age, or who, being deformed, have no longer any sex; but we solemnly and resolutely refuse the snuff-box to young and beautiful women, who ought to preserve their delicate and pretty noses for the odors of the mignonette and the rose."

With royalty snuff has been a prime favorite. Charles III. of Spain had a great predilection for rappee snuff, but only indulged his inclination by stealth, and particularly while shooting, when he imagined himself to be unnoticed. Frederick the Great and Napoleon[61] both loved and used large quantities of the "pungent dust." Of the former the following anecdote is related:—

[Footnote 61: Napoleon, having been unable to undergo the ordeal of a first pipe, stigmatized it us a habit only fit to amuse sluggards. What he renounced in smoking, however, he compensated in snuff.]

"The cynical temper of Frederick the Great is well known. Once when his sister, the Duchess of Brunswick, was at Potsdam, Frederick made to the brave Count Schwerin the present of a gold snuff-box. On the lid inside was painted the head of an ass. Next day, when dining with the king, Schwerin, with some ostentation, put his snuff-box on the table. Wishing to turn the joke against Schwerin, the king called attention to the snuff-box. The Duchess took it up and opened it. Immediately she exclaimed, 'What a striking likeness! In truth, brother, this is one of the best portraits I have ever seen of you.' Frederick, embarrassed, thought his sister was carrying the jest too far. She passed the box to her neighbor, who uttered similar expressions to her own. The box made the round of the table, and every one was fervently eloquent about the marvelous resemblance. The king was puzzled what to make of all this. When the box at last reached his hands, he saw, to his great surprise, that his portrait was really there. Count Schwerin had simply, with exceeding dispatch, employed an artist to remove the ass's head, and to paint the king's head instead. Frederick could not help laughing at the Count's clever trick, which was really the best rebuke of his own bad taste and want of proper and respectful feeling."

"As Frederick William I., of Prussia, was eminently the Smoking King, so his son Frederick the Great was eminently the Snuffing King. Perhaps smoking harmonizes best with action; and it might, without much stretch of fancy, be shown that as the Prussian monarchy was founded on tobacco smoke, it flourished on snuff. Possibly, if Napoleon the Great, who like Frederick the Great, was an excessive snuffer, had smoked as well as snuffed, he might have preserved his empire from overthrow, seeing that smoking steadies and snuffing impels. The influences of smoking and snuffing on politics and war are ascertainable. What the effect of chewing is on political and military affairs, it is not so easy to discover. We recommend the subject for meditation to the profoundest metaphysicians. How many of the American politicians and generals have been chewers as well as snuffers and smokers? Is there to be some mysterious affinity between chewing and the revolutions, especially the social revolutions of the future? May not apocalyptic interpreters be able to show that chewing is the symbol of anarchy and annihilation?"



When first used in Europe snuff was made ready for use by the takers—each person being provided with a box or "mill," as they were termed, to reduce the leaves to powder.

In connection with this, the following may not be irrelevent:—

The following anecdote of Huerta the celebrated Spanish guitarist, is taken from one of M. Ella's programmes:—

"In the year 1826 the famous Huerta, who astonished the English by his performances on the guitar, was anxious to be introduced to the leader of the Italian Opera Band—a warm-hearted and sensitive Neapolitan—Spagnoletti. The latter had a great contempt for guitars, concertinas, and other fancy instruments not used in the orchestra. He was fond of snuff, had a capacious nose, and, when irritated, would ejaculate 'Mon Dieu!' On my presenting the vain Spaniard to Spagnoletti, the latter inquired, 'Vat you play?' Huerta—'De guitar-r-r, sare.' Spagnoletti—'De guitar! humph!' (takes a pinch of snuff.) Huerta—'Yeas, sare, de guitar-r-r, and ven I play my adagio, de tears shall run down both side your pig nose.' 'Vell den,' (taking snuff,) said Spagnoletti, 'I vill not hear your adagio.'"

The anecdote related of Count de Tesse, a celebrated courtier of France, is one of the best of its kind:—

"Count de Tesse, Marshal of France, was an eminent man during the reign of Louis XIV. Though he was a brave soldier and by no means an incompetent general, yet he was more remarkable as a skillful diplomatist and a pliant and prosperous courtier. During the War of Succession in Spain, he besieged Barcelona with a considerable army, in the spring of 1705. Terrible was the assault, and terrible was the resistance. At the end of six weeks the arrival of the British fleet, and reinforcements thrown into the place, forced Marshal Tesse to retire. Besides immense losses in dead and wounded, he had to abandon two hundred and twenty cannon and all his supplies. Incessantly fighting for fifteen days in his retreat towards the Pyrenees, he lost three thousand more of his men. It ought to be said, in vindication of Tesse, that he undertook the siege by express and urgent command of the French King, and contrary to his own judgment; for in writing to a friend, he said: 'If a Consistory were held to decide the infallibility of the King, as Consistories have been held to decide the infallibility of the Pope, I should by my vote declare His Majesty infallible. His orders have confounded all human science.'

"Soon after the siege of Barcelona, a lady at a fashionable party took out her snuff-box and offered a pinch to any one who wished it. Marshal Tesse approached to take a pinch; but suddenly the lady drew her snuff-box back, saying, 'For you, Marshal, the snuff is too strong—it is Barcelona.'"

In Scotland the dry kinds of snuff are in favor and are esteemed as highly as the moister snuffs. Robert Leighton gives the following pen picture of the snuff-loving Scotchman; it is entitled "The Snuffie Auld Man:"—

"By the cosie fire-side, or the sun-ends o' gavels, The snuffie auld bodie is sure to be seen. Tap, tappin' his snuff-box, he snifters and sneevils, And smachers the snuff frae his mou' to his een. 'Since tobacco cam' in, and the snuffin' began, There hasna been seen sic a snuffie auld man.

"His haurins are dozen'd, his een sair bedizzened. And red round the lids as the gills o' a fish; His face is a' bladdit, his sark-breest a' smaddit. As snuffie a picture as ony could wish. He makes a mere merter o' a' thing he does, Wi' snuff frae his fingers an' drops frae his nose.

"And wow but his nose is a troublesome member— Day and nicht, there's nae end to its snuffie desire: It's wide as the chimlie, it's red as an ember, And has to be fed like a dry-whinnie fire. It's a troublesome member, and gi'es him nae peace, Even sleepin', or eatin', or sayin' the grace.

"The kirk is disturbed wi' his hauckin' and sneezin' The dominie stoppit when leadin' the psalm; The minister, deav'd out o' logic and reason, Pours gall in the lugs that are gapi' for balm. The auld folks look surly, the young chaps jocose, While the bodie himsel' is bambazed wi' his nose.

"He scrimps the auld wife baith in garnal and caddy He snuffs what wad keep her in comfort and ease; Rapee, Lundyfitt, Prince's Mixture, and Toddy, She looks upon them as the worst o' her faes. And we'll see an end o' her kooshian nar While the auld carle's nose is upheld like a Czar."

Sharp has written some verses founded upon the following singular anecdote in Dean Ramsay's "Reminiscences of Scottish Life and Character:"

"The inveterate snuff-taker, like the dram-drinker, felt severely the being deprived of his accustomed stimulant, as in the following instance: A severe snow-storm in the Highlands, which lasted for several weeks, having stopped all communication betwixt neighboring hamlets, the snuff-boxes were soon reduced to their last pinch. Borrowing and begging from all the neighbors within reach were first resorted to, but when these failed all were alike reduced to the longing which unwillingly abstinent snuff-takers alone know. The minister of the parish was amongst the unhappy number; the craving was so intense that study was out of the question, and he became quite restless. As a last resort, the beadle was dispatched through the snow, to a neighboring glen, in the hope of getting a supply; but he came back as unsuccessful as he went. 'What's to be done, John? was the minister's pathetic inquiry. John shook his head, as much as to say that he could not tell, but immediately thereafter started up, as if a new idea occurred to him. He came back in a few minutes, crying, 'Hae!' The minister, too eager to be scrutinizing, took a long deep pinch, and then said, 'Whour did you get it?' 'I soupit (swept) the poupit,' was John's expressive reply. The minister's accumulated superfluous Sabbath snuff now came into good use."



"Near the Highlands, Where the dry lands Are divided into islands, And distinguish'd from the mainland As the Western Hebrides.

"Stormy weather, Those who stay there, Oftentimes for weeks together Keep asunder from their neighbors, Hemm'd about by angry seas.

"For, storm-batter'd, Boats are shattered, And their precious cargoes scatter'd In the boist'rous Sound of Jura, Or thy passage, Colonsay;

"While the seamen, Like true freemen, Battle bravely with the Demon Of the storm, who strives to keep them From their harbor in the bay.

"For this reason One bad season, (If to say so be not treason,) In an island town the people Were reduced to great distress.

"Though on mainland They would fain land, They were storm-bound in their ain land, Where each luxury was little, And grew beautifully less.

"But whose sorrow, That sad morrow, When no man could beg or borrow From a friend's repository, Equall'd theirs who craved for snuff.

"But, most sadden'd, Nearly madden'd For the lack of that which gladden'd His proboscis, was the parson, Hight the Rev'rend Neil Macduff.

"If a snuffer, Though no puffer, You may guess what pangs he'd suffer In his journey through a snow-drift, Visiting a neighboring town.

"From his rushing For some sneishing; But his choring and his fishing Could procure no Toddy's Mixture, Moist Rappee, or Kendal Brown.

"In his trouble— Now made double, Since his last hope proved a bubble— To his aid came Beadle Johnnie, In his parish right-hand man.

"With a packet, Saying, Tak' it, It's as clean as I can mak' it, If ye'd save yer snuff on Sabbath A toom box ye needna scan.

"Being lusty (Though 'twas musty) To his nose the snuff so dusty Put the minister, too much in want, The gift to scrutinize.

"An idea He could see a Blessing in this panacea; So he took such hearty pinches as brought Tears into his eyes.

"Then to Johnnie, His old cronie, Cried—'I fear'd I'd ne'er get ony.' 'Well, I'll tell ye,' said the beadle, 'Whaur I got the stock of snuff.'

"'In the poupit Low I stoopit, An' the snuff and stour I soupit, Then I brocht ye here a handfu', For ye need it sair enough.'"

The old Scottish snuff-mill, which consisted of a small box-like receptacle into which fitted a conical-shaped projection with a short, strong handle was a more substantial affair than the rasp used by the French and English snuff-takers. (See page 232). Both, answered the purpose for which they were designed, the leaves of tobacco being "toasted before the fire," and then ground in the mill as it was called. The more modern snuff-mill is similar in shape, but is used to hold the snuff after being ground, rather than for reducing the leaves to a powder.

Boswell gives the following poem on snuff, in his "Shrubs of Parnassus:"

"Oh Snuff! our fashionable end and aim! Strasburg, Rappee, Dutch, Scotch, what'eer thy name, Powder celestial! quintessence divine! New joys entrance my soul while thou art mine. Who takes—who takes thee not! where'er I range, I smell thy sweets from Pall Mall to the 'Change. By thee assisted, ladies kill the day, And breathe their scandal freely o'er their tea; Nor less they prize thy virtues when in bed, One pinch of thee revives the vapor'd head, Removes the spleen, removes the qualmish fit, And gives a brisker turn to female wit, Warms in the nose, refreshes like the breeze, Glows in the herd and tickles in the sneeze. Without it, Tinsel, what would be thy lot! What, but to strut neglected and forgot! What boots it for thee to have dipt thy hand In odors wafted from Arabian land? Ah! what avails thy scented solitaire, Thy careless swing and pertly tripping air, The crimson wash that glows upon thy face, Thy modish hat, and coat that flames with lace! In vain thy dress, in vain thy trimmings shine, If the Parisian snuff-box be not thine. Come to my nose, then, Snuff, nor come alone, Bring taste with thee, for taste is all thy own."

There seems to be as great a variety of design in snuff-boxes as among pipes and tobacco-stoppers. The Indians of both North and South America have their mills for grinding or pulverizing the leaves. In the East a great variety of snuff-boxes may be seen; they are made of wood and ivory, while many of them have a spoon attached to the box, which they use in taking the dust from the box to the back of the hand, whence it is taken by the forefinger and conveyed to the nose. In Europe we find greater variety of design in snuff-boxes than in the East. In Europe they are made of the most costly materials, and studded with the rarest gems.

In the East they are made of ivory, wood, bamboo, and other materials. Of late years boxes made of wood from Abbotsford or some other noted place have been used for the manufacture of snuff-boxes. Formerly when snuff-taking was in more general use by kings and courtiers than now—a magnificent snuff-box was considered by royalty as one of the most valuable and pleasing of "memorials." Many of these testimonials of friendship and regard were of gold and silver, and set with diamonds of the finest water.

Among the anecdotes of celebrated snuff-takers, the following from White's "Life of Swedenborg," will be new to many:

"Swedenborg took snuff profusely and carelessly, strewing it over his papers and the carpet. His manuscripts bear its traces to this day. His carpet set those sneezing who shook it. One Sunday he desired to have it taken up and beaten. Shearsmith objected, 'Better wait till to-morrow,' 'Dat be good! dat be good!' was his answer."

We copy the following article on the manufacture of snuff from a well-known English journal, "Cope's Tobacco Plant:"—

"Although snuff is still extensively consumed in this country (Great Britain), the mode of its manufacture is very little known to those who use it; and there are very few persons of even the most inquisitive turn of mind who can say they have ever penetrated into the mysterious precincts of a snuff-mill. Even those who have been privileged, and have had the courage to inspect the interior of such an establishment, have come away with very vague notions of what they saw. The hollow whirr of the revolving pestles, the hazy atmosphere closely resembling a London fog in November, a phenomenon which is produced by the innumerable particles of tobacco floating about, and causing the gas to flicker and sparkle in a mysterious way, and producing a lively irritation of the mucous membrane, all combine in placing the visitor in a state of amusing bewilderment, and he is compelled to make a speedy exit, having only had just a running peep at the interesting process of snuff-making. It is therefore our duty to give a description of a process which will be new to a large number of people, and will help to clear up some of the obscure theories that a great many more entertain of it.

"Those persons who have travelled on the Continent, and who have noticed on tobacconists' counters a small machine, somewhat like a coffee-mill, which a man works with one hand, while he holds a hard-pressed plug of tobacco about a pound weight against the revolving grater, and produces snuff while the snuff-taker waits for it, may imagine that snuff in England is produced on a somewhat similar small scale. But this, like many kindred theories, is quite a mistake. In this country there exist large snuff-mills worked by steam power, and in Scotland there is one water-mill which is driven by a water-power of the strength of thirty horses. The grinding of snuff is at present carried on much as it was one hundred years ago. The apparatus, although effective, is very primitive, and would lead one to suppose that mechanical ingenuity had wholly neglected to trouble itself about improving that branch of machinery.



"All kinds of snuff are made from tobacco leaves, or tobacco stalks, either separate or mixed. This in the first instance goes through a kind of fermentation, and, like the basis of soup at the modern hotels, forms, as it were, the stock from which all the varieties in flavor and appearance are produced by special treatment and flavoring. Of course the strength and pungency of the snuff will depend a good deal upon the richness of the tobacco originally put aside for it. About one thousand pounds of tobacco would form an ordinary batch of snuff. The duty on this would amount to about L150, and this has to be paid before the tobacco is removed from the bonded warehouse. Having got his heap of material ready, the snuff-maker moistens it, then places it in a warm room and covers it over with warm cloths—coddles it, as it were, to make it comfortable, so that the cold air cannot get to it—and the heap is then left for three or four weeks, as the case may be, to ferment.

"In France, where, under the Imperial regime, snuff-making was a Government monopoly, the tobacco was allowed to ferment for twelve or eighteen months; and in the principal factory (that at Strasburg) might have been seen scores of huge bins, as large as porter vats, all piled up with tobacco in various stages of fermentation. The tobacco, after being fermented, if intended for that light, powdery, brown-looking snuff called S. P., is dried a little; or if for Prince's Mixture, Macobau, or any other kind of Rappee, is at once thrown into what is called the mull. The mull is a kind of large iron mortar weighing about half a ton and lined with wood; and there is a heavy pestle which travels round it, forming, as it were, a large pestle and mortar.

These mulls are placed in rows and shut up in separate cupboards, to keep in the dust. The snuff-maker wanders from one to the other, and feeds them as they require.

"When the grinding of the snuff is completed it is then ready for flavouring, and in this consists the great art and secret of the trade. Receipts for peculiar flavors are handed down from father to son as most valuable heir-looms, and these receipts are in fact a valuable property in many instances, for so delicate is the nose of your snuff-taker that he can detect the slightest variation in the preparation of his favorite snuff. It is related of one old snuff-maker in London, who had acquired a handsome fortune and retired from business, that he made it a consideration with his successors that he should be allowed, so long as he lived, to attend one day in the week at the business and flavor all the snuff. Most people will also be familiar with some one of the numerous versions of the origin of the once famous Lundy Foote Snuff, better known as 'Irish Blackguard.'

"The excise are very rigid in their laws for regulating the manufacture of snuff; and with the exception of a little common salt, which is added to make the tobacco keep, and alkalies for bringing out the flavor, nothing is allowed to be used but a few essential oils. And here we must digress for a moment to correct a popular error, viz., that snuff contains ground glass, put there for titillating purposes. What appears to be ground glass is only the little crystals or small particles of alkali that have not been dissolved. So that fastidious snuff-takers may dismiss this bugbear at once and forever.

"The essential oils referred to form a very expensive item to the manufacture of snuff. The ladies would be much surprised to see a dusty snuff-maker drain off five pounds' worth of pure unadulterated otto-of-roses into a tin can, and as they (the ladies) would suppose, throw it away on a heap of what would appear to them rubbishy dust in one corner of the snuff-room. Of course the ladies would consider the proper place for it to be on the cambric handkerchief, but this idea would be about the last to occur to your matter-of-fact snuff-maker.



"In addition to otto-of-roses, the scent-room contains great jars of essence of lemon, French geranium, verbena, oil of pimento, bergamotte, etc., all of which are used in the various flavoring combinations. There would most likely also be a few hundred-weight of fine Tonquin beans, and one of these beans is generally presented to any visitor who drops in, as souvenir to carry away in his waistcoat pocket. Snuff is very extensively used in the mills and factories of Lancashire. Those who toil long in heated and noisy mills seem to require, and doubtless do require, tobacco in some shape or other to keep them from flagging; and as chewing is not polite, and smoking in a mill not allowed, the only resource left to the operative is his snuff. A singular feature connected with this is, we believe, the fact that spinners in very few instances use snuff-boxes, they prefer having their supply of snuff screwed up in a piece of paper. One retail shop-keeper in a busy spinning town in Lancashire assured us that he retailed over four hundred weight of snuff a week in pennyworths.

"It is impossible to state the exact quantity of snuff used in this country; but, as far as we can arrive at it from statistics at hand, we should say it cannot be less than five hundred tons per annum. This seems an enormous quantity, considering the comparatively small number of persons who now use snuff; but the great bulk of snuff seems to be consumed by particular communities, such as the Lancashire operatives, and the consumption of it is therefore not generally observable; and further it should be remembered that those who do take snuff, individually use large quantities."