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TOBACCO 

in 

SONG  ©.  STORY 

By 

JOHN     BAIN,     Jr. 


New   York  Boston 

H.   M.    CALDWELL    CO 


CT 


Copyright,  1896 

BY 
ARTHUR  GRAY 


INTRODUCTION. 

A  GOOD  book  needs  no  eloquent  pen 
to  etch  its  merits  in  the  way  of  an  intro- 
duction. 

It  was  evident,  however,  to  the  com- 
piler of  this  book,  that  no  volume  treating 
on  Tobacco  had  heretofore  appeared 
which  contained  all  that  deserved  a  place 
in  the  literature  of  the  weed,  and  at  the 
same  time  avoided  the  scientific  treatises 
and  exhaustive  histories  on  the  subject 
which  have  no  interest  to  the  great  army 
of  smokers. 

This,  in  brief,  is  the  object  of  this 
anthology.  All  the  illustrations  in  this 
little  volume  have  been  drawn  especially 
for  it.  The  binding  and  paper  are  in 
keeping  with  the  best  mechanical  features 


ii  INTRODUCTION. 

of  any  book ;  while  its  handy  size  makes 
of  it  a  book  in  which  any  smoker  may 
delight. 

There  is  something  in  the  book  that 
will  appeal  to  every  lover  of  the  weed, 
no  matter  what  his  station  in  life  may  be 
or  the  grade  of  tobacco  he  consumes.  It 
is  not  meant  to  be  any  more  a  book  for 
the  smoker  of  twenty-five  cent  cigars  than 
for  the  man  behind  the  clay  pipe. 

It  is  intended  to  be  a  book  of  good 
fellowship,  in  which  all  smokers  are  free 
and  equal. 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

SIR  WALTER  RALEIGH.    Sketch^  ...  7 

THE  DISCOVERY  OF  TOBACCO,     ...  so 

A  FEW  WORDS  ABOUT  TOBACCO,      .      .  23 

ORIGIN  OF  TOBACCO,  Conte  Arabe,     .      ,  24 

PHILOSOPHY  OF  SMOKING,  .  .  .  26-35 
The  Smoking  Philosopher,  Marryat. — 
With  Pipe  and  Book,  Richard  Le  Galli- 
enne.— Carlyle  'on  Tobacco.— In  Favor 
of  Tobacco,  Samuel  Rowlands.— PL  Pipe 
of  Tobacco,  Isaac  H.  Browne. — Bulwer- 
Lytton  on  Tobacco  Smoking. — Invoca- 
tion to  Tobacco,  Henry  James.  Mellen.— 
The  Happy  Smoker,  E.  Bonfils.—S&ra. 
Slick  on  the  Virtues  of  a  Pipe. — Opinion 
of  St.  Pierre.— Smoke  Dreams,  A.  B. 
Tucker.  —  Guizot.  —  My  Pipe,  German 
Smoking  Song. 

iii 


IV  CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

POETRY  OF  SMOKE, 36-7° 

Latakia,  T.  B.  Aldrich.—  Sublime  To- 
bacco, Lord  Byron. — Virginia  Tobacco, 
John  Stanley  Gregson.—f^.  Good  Cigar, 
Norris  Bull.—K  Poet's  Pipe,  Richard 
Herne  Shepherd.—  The  Happy  Smoking 
Ground,  Richard  Le  Gallienne.  —  A 
Farewell  to  Tobacco,  Charles  Lamb. — 
Inscription  for  a  Tobacco  Jar,  Cope.— 
The  Scent  of  a  Good  Cigar,  Kate  A. 
Carrington.  —  In  the  Ol'  Tobacker 
Patch,  S.  Q.  Lapius.—  Motto  for  a  To- 
bacco Jar.— A  Stub  of  Cigar,  Volney 
Streamer.— The  Pipe  You  Make  Your- 
self,  Henry  E.  Brown.— Smoking  Away, 
Francis  Miles  French.— Tobacco,  Geo. 
Wither.— A  Maiden's  Wish.— My  Cigar- 
ette, Charles  F.  Lummis.—  Those  Ashes, 
R.  K.  Munkittrick.-H.ovf  It  Once  Was> 
New  York  Sun. — Beer,  George  Arnold. 
On  a  Tobacco  Jar,  Bernard  Barker.— 
'Twas  Off  the  Blue  Canaries,  Joseph 
Warren  Fabens.—ln  Wreaths  of  Smoke, 
Frank  Newton  Holman.—The  Old  Clay 
Pipe,  A.  B.  Van  /^-/.—Knickerbocker, 
Austin  Dobson. — Ode  to  Tobacco,  C.  S. 
Calver/ey.—My  Friendly  Pipe,  Detroit 
Tribune.— Choosing  a  Wife  by  a  Pipe  of 
Tobacco,  Gentleman1  &  Magazine. — A 
Bachelor's  Soliloquy,  Edmund  Day.— 
I  Like  Cigars,  Ella  Wheeler  Wilcox. 


CONTENTS.  V 

PAGE 

SMOKERS'  STORIES, 71-99 

Bismarck's  Last  Cigar.— The  Uses  of 
Cigar  Ash.  —  Jules  Sandeau  on  the 
Cigar. —  Tennyson  as  a  Smoker. —  To- 
bacco in  North  America. — Shakespeare 
and  Tobacco. — The  Etymology  of  To- 
bacco.— Emerson  and  Cariyle. — Napo- 
leon's First  Pipe.— Mazzini's  Sang-froid 
as  a  Smoker. — A  Smoker  in  Venice. — 
Milton's  Pipe. — Professor  Huxley  on 
Smoking.— Robert  Burns'  Snuff-Box.— 
A  Smoking  Empress. — An  Ingenious 
Smoker.  —  Raleigh's  Tobacco-Box.  — 
Smoking  in  1610. — Pigs  and  Smokers. — 
The  Social  Pipe. 

TOBACCO  FACTS, 100-101 

Ages  Attained  by  Great  Smokers. 

SOME  SALESMEN  AND  OTHERS,    .      .    102-116 
PUFFS, 117-126 

MISCELLANEOUS, 127-144 

How  to  Keep  a  Pipe  Good-Natured.— 
The  Betrothed,  Rudyard  Kipling.— 
How  to  Color  a  Meerschaum. —To  My 
Pipe.  Sigel  Jtous&.—She,  Carl  Werner. 
—The  Dealer's  Dupe,  Carl  Werner.— 
<  A  Free  Puff,"  Arthur  Gray. 


TOBACCO  IN  SONG  AND 
STORY. 


SIR  WALTER  RALEIGH. 


WALTER  RALEIGH'S 
name  will  always,  among  the 
English-speaking  races,  be 
linked  with  that  of  Tobacco. 
Raleigh  it  was  who,  in  the 
sixteenth  century,  found  tobacco  en  the 
plantations  of  Virginia,  and  introduced 
it  into  England  and  Ireland,  along  with 
the  potato.  He  planted  both  upon  his 
estate  at  Gongall,  Ireland,  the  home 
presented  to  him  by  the  auburn-haired, 


8  SIR  WALTER   RALEIGH. 

falcon-faced  Elizabeth,  England's  one 
great  queen,  for  services  rendered  upon 
the  Spanish  Main  and  in  the  then  New 
World. 

Columbus  was  the  first  European  to 
discover  tobacco.  When  he  and  his 
companions  saw  the  Indians  smoking  it 
and  blowing  the  smoke  through  their 
nostrils,  they  were  as  much  surprised  as 
they  had  been  at  the  first  sight  of  land. 
But  they  were  no  more  surprised  than 
Ben  Jonson,  Beaumont,  Selden,  Fletcher, 
and  Shakespeare  when,  one  stormy  night, 
Sir  Walter  Raleigh  walked  into  the  Mer- 
maid tavern  and,  throwing  pipes  and 
tobacco  upon  the  table,  invited  all  hands 
to  smoke.  Shakespeare  thought  that  it 
was  anticipating  things  a  little  to  smoke 
in  this  world,  and  that  Bacon  should  have 
the  monopoly  of  it ;  while  Ben  Jonson — 
"  rare  Ben,"  the  roundest  and  fattest  and 
gruffest  of  men — after  the  first  pipeful  or 
two,  growled :  "  Tobacco,  I  do  assert, 
without  fear  of  contradiction  from  the 


SIR  WALTER  RALEIGH.  Q 

Avon  skylark,  is  the  most  soothing,  sov- 
ereign, and  precious  weed  that  ever  our 
dear  old  Mother  Earth  tendered  to  the 
use  of  man !  Let  him  who  would  con- 
tradict that  most  mild,  but  sincere  and 
enthusiastic  assertion,  look  to  his  under- 
taker. Sir  Walter,  your  health."  Then 
everyone  drained  his  mug's  contents,  and 
Sir  Walter  was  happy  in  the  conscious- 
ness of  having  given  something  to  civil- 
ized man  second  only  to  food. 

If  the  conversation  of  those  master 
minds  that  night  could  have  been  pre- 
served, few  books  that  we  know  would 
equal  in  wisdom,  wit,  humor,  and  bril- 
liancy, a  volume  made  of  it.  But,  alas ! 
there  was  no  Boswell  there,  with  his  note- 
book, his  prying  eyes  and  eager  ears,  and 
that  night  has  passed  into  the  great  sea  of 
oblivion,  like  the  snow  that  fell,  the  winds 
that  blew,  the  flowers  that  budded,  blos- 
somed, faded,  withered,  and  died,  three 
thousand  years  ago — or  thirty. 

Something  about  Sir  Walter  Raleigh 


10  SIR  WALTER  RALEIGH. 

should  here  be  told,  not  for  the  first  time, 
— nothing  nowadays  is  ever  told  for  the 
first  time, — but  in  our  own  way.  A  few 
pages  will  epitomize  the  life  of  this  bold, 
handsome,  gallant,  honest  and  honorable, 
tender  and  loyal,  simple  and  courage- 
ous, sixteenth-century  gentleman.  None 
braver  ever  lived,  loved,  sang,  suffered, 
and  died,  the  best  he  knew  how,  than  this 
jewel  of  a  man.  No  more  romantic  life 
has  been  chronicled  than  his. 

He  was  born  in  the  same  year  with 
Edmund  Spenser,  1552  ;  and  twelve  years 
before  Kit  Marlowe  and  the  glorious 
Shakespeare,  both  of  whom  came  into  the 
world  in  1564.  In  all  the  annals  of  liter- 
ature, or  in  all  the  illimitable  worlds  of 
illimitable  space,  in  all  the  illimitable  ages, 
was  there  ever,  or  will  there  ever  be  such 
a  quartette  gathered  under  one  roof,  its 
one  room  (the  Mermaid's)  as  that  on« 
composed  of  Raleigh,  Spenser,  Marlowe, 
and  Shakespeare. 

It  was  at  the  Hayes  Farm,  in  Devon. 


SIR  WALTER  RALEIGH.  I? 

shire,  that  Raleigh  first  saw  the  light  of 
day.  He  grew  up  in  the  country,  from 
babyhood  to  his  teens,  and  into  them,  as 
other  boys  do.  He  loved  outdoors,  play, 
study.  He  was  as  adventurous  as  Clive 
who,  later  on,  gave  England  India;  but 
unlike  Clive,  he  had  his  poetic  days  and 
nights.  Clive  was  all  adventure,  bold- 
ness, recklessness,  and  business ;  Raleigh 
was  all  these — except  the  latter.  More- 
over, he  was  a  student  and  a  lover  of 
poetry. 

Raleigh  was  educated  at  Oxford,  and, 
at  the  age  of  seventeen,  when  most  Eng- 
lish boys  are  going  home  for  the  holidays, 
roast  goose  and  apple  sauce,  plum  pud- 
ding and  'alf-an'-'alf,  he  began  his  me- 
teor-like career,  as  a  volunteer  in  the 
cause  of  the  French  Protestants.  For 
more  than  five  years  he  fought  in  the 
Continental  wars,  and  at  the  age  of 
twenty-four  he  joined  his  half-brother, 
Sir  Humphrey  Gilbert,  in  a  voyage  to 
North  America.  In  1578,  two  years 


12  SIR  WALTER  RALEIGH. 

later,  at  the  age  of  twenty-six,  he  re- 
turned to  England,  with  a  Jot  of — Ex- 
perience. He  couldn't  make  much  of  a 
splurge  on  that,  so  we  find  him,  as  Cap- 
tain Raleigh,  a  little  later  on,  in  Ireland, 
fighting  like  a  bulldog  against  the  rebel 
Desmonds.  He  fought  so  well  that  he  was 
chosen  to  bear  dispatches  from  the  Lord 
Lieutenant  of  Ireland  to  Auburn  Lizzie. 

Fortune's  wheel  swung  round,  until 
Raleigh  stood  on  top  of  it  the  day  he 
met  Elizabeth.  She  could  make  or 
break  any  man  in  England  in  those  days. 
Raleigh's  star  was  in  her  happiest 
mood  that  day  when  she  sent  her  gallant 
prote'ge'  up  a  certain  thoroughfare,  down 
which  the  bejeweled  queen  was  coming, 
for  as  Lizzie  paused  at  a  particularly 
muddy  place  with  a  shudder  of  disgust, 
young  Captain  Raleigh  whipped  off  his 
cloak  and  flung  it  beneath  her  virgin  feet. 
She  repaid  him  with  a  smile,  and  from 
that  moment  Captain  Raleigh  was  in  the 
saddle. 


SIR   WALTER   RALEIGH.  13 

In  less  than  no  time  he  was  a  knight, 
Captain  of  the  Queen's  Guard,  and  Sen- 
eschal of  Cornwall ;  besides  receiving  a 
grant  of  twelve  thousand  acres  of  land  in 
Ireland,  and  the  sole  right  of  licensing 
wine-sellers  in  England. 

Elizabeth  knew  how  to  reward  those 
in  whom  she  took  a  platonic  interest. 
She  gave  them  something  besides  shawls, 
portraits  of  her  effulgent  self,  and  grand- 
motherly advice.  There  was  no  squatty 
royalty  about  Elizabeth  of  England. 
Nothing  was  too  good  for  those  who 
served  the  state ;  nothing  too  severe  for 
the  state's  enemies. 

Raleigh  now  had  all  kinds  of  money : 
money  to  burn,  to  throw  away,  to  treat, 
spend,  and  loan.  He  had  a  lot  of 
stranded  friends  among  the  poets  and 
dramatists  of  that  day,  and  he  helped 
them  all  out  of  his  large  purse  and  larger 
nature. 

Then  he  lost  more  than  half  his  fortune 
in  an  attempt  to  colonize  North  America. 


14  SIR  WALTER   RALEIGH. 

Twice  he  sent  out  expeditions  to 
America,  but  the  ancestors  of  King 
Philip  and  Massasoit  would  not  allow 
him  to  do  it.  The  first  settlers  escaped 
in  their  nightcaps  and  slippers,  and 
boarded  Francis  Drake's  ships  ;  but  the 
second  band  were  tomahawked  and 
scalped.  The  first  expedition  brought  to 
England  tobacco,  and  the  succulent  and 
necessary  Murphy.  Raleigh  called  a 
State  Virginia,  after  his  Virgin  Queen, 
and  the  capital  of  North  Carolina  is 
known  to  this  day  as  Raleigh. 

In  the  splendid  fight  of  English  sea- 
men against  the  Armada  of  Spain — a 
fleet  Philip  sent  out  to  wipe  England 
off  the  map — Raleigh  was  a  leader. 
Such  men  as  Francis  Drake,  John  Haw- 
kins, and  Frobisher  were  his  companions 
in  that  never-to-be-forgotten  Homeric 
sea  conflict.  Then  Raleigh  became  the 
owner  of  the  magnificent  acres  of  Sher- 
borne,  in  Dorsetshire ;  then  the  disgraced 
husband  of  Elizabeth  Throgmorton  ;  the 


SIR  WALTER   RALEIGH.  15 

daring  explorer  of  the  Orinoco  ;  the  hero 
of  the  siege  of  Cadiz  and  the  capture  of 
Fayal ;  and  then  Elizabeth  died,  and 
James  the  First,  with  his  big  head,  slob- 
bering mouth,  codfish  eyes,  spindle 
shanks,  his  want  of  dignity,  his  drunk- 
enness, his  affectation  of  learning,  and  his 
rank  cowardice,  came  to  the  throne. 
He  had  hardly  filled  the  chair  left  vacant 
by  Elizabeth  before  Raleigh's  star  began 
to  sputter  like  a  midnight  candle,  and 
Cecil,  his  former  chum,  began  to  poison 
the  king's  mind  against  him.  Cecil  did 
his  backcapping  work  so  thoroughly,  in 
1603,  when  Raleigh  was  fifty-one  years 
of  age,  that  James  had  the  former 
favorite  stripped  of  nearly  all  his  honors 
and  rewards. 

The  world  is  always  full  of  Cecils, 
Jameses,  and  (comparative)  Raieighs. 

Every  man  who  reads  this,  knows 
that. 

But  worse  followed,  thanks  to  the 
reptile  Cecil :  Raleigh  was  charged  with 


16  SIR  WALTER  RALEIGH. 

having  been  at  the  head  of  a  plo<i  to 
kidnap  James  and  place  Lady  Arabella 
Stuart  on  the  throne.  He  was  tried  for 
treason,  in  Winchester  Castle.  He  was 
sent  to  the  Tower,  and  for  thirteen  years 
kept  there.  During  those  thirteen  years, 
his  friend,  William  Shakespeare,  was  be- 
coming the  Miracle  of  Time — the  greatest 
man  ever  cast  by  the  tides  of  Time  on 
the  shores  of  Life.  What  a  world  of 
pities  that  for  those  thirteen  golden  years 
to  Shakespeare,  Raleigh  never  saw  one  of 
the  great  plays  of  England's  King  of 
Kings,  and  that,  in  1616,  the  year  Ra- 
leigh was  released  from  the  Tower  to 
find  gold  in  America  for  James  the  First, 
Shakespeare  should  die !  Well,  two  years 
later,  Raleigh  followed  him.  But  Shake- 
speare died  in  bed. 

While  in  the  Tower,  Raleigh  wrote  his 
"  History  of  the  World  " ;  and  there  he 
spent  much  of  his  time  in  chemical  ex- 
periments, in  the  course  of  which  he 
sought  eagerly  for  the  philosopher's 


SIR  WALTER  RALEIGH.  If 

stone,  and  the  elixir  of  life.  But  he 
found  them  not.  They  are  still  with 
Keely's  motor,  in  the  womb  of  Time. 

In  1616,  James  the  First  sent  Raleigh 
with  fourteen  ships  to  the  Orinoco  after 
the  tons  of  gold  he  thought  were  there. 
All  Raleigh  found  was  a  bar  or  two  of 
gold,  captured  from  a  Spanish  settlement 
on  the  Orinoco  River.  His  son  Walter 
was  killed  in  the  assault  upon  the  settle- 
ment, and,  "  with  my  brains  broken,"  he 
wrote  his  wife,  he  was  forced  to  sail  for 
home  from  the  grave  of  his  son. 

It  would  be  of  historic  interest  to  have 
the  grave  of  young  Walter  Raleigh  lo- 
cated, by  the  way.  Like  Ophelia's  body, 
the  body  of  a  Raleigh  should  enrich  the 
soil  that  has  received  it. 

The  Spaniards  were  wild  with  rage  at 
Raleigh's  acts,  and  Spain  went  yelling, 
into  James's  audience  chamber,  "  Pirates ! 
Pirates  ! " 

Spain  demanded  reparation.  James 
desired  to  please  Spain,  as  he  wished  to 


18  SIR  WALTER   RALEIGH. 

marry  his  son  Charles  to  the  Infanta. 
So  he  had  Raleigh  arrested  on  his  return 
to  England,  and  on  October  19,  1618,  at 
the  age  of  sixty-six,  he  was  beheaded,  at 
Westminster,  upon  the  fifteen-year-old 
charge  of  "  treason."  Because  a  "  king  " 
had  committed  it,  it  wasn't  called  "  mur- 
der"; but  when  Cromwell  cut  off  the 
head  of  Charles  the  First— Horrors  ! — 
that  was  "  murder  " — to  kill  a  worthless 
"  king  " ;  but  that  was  "  execution  "  to 
kill  a  fine  gentleman  like  Raleigh,  who 
was  worth  titty  thousand  kings  by  divine 
rot. 

No  man  could  die  more  splendidly 
than  did  Raleigh.  He  smilingly  picked 
up  the  axe  on  his  way  to  the  block  and, 
running  his  finger  over  the  edge  of  it, 
said  : 

"  This  is  a  sharp  medicine,  but  it  will 
cure  all  disease/'  Two  blows,  and  a 
master  of  the  sword,  the  compass,  and 
the  pen  was  without  a  head. 

What  a  pity,  that  he  couldn't  have  had 


SIR  WALTER  RALEIGH.  IQ 

a  box  of  perfectos  the  night  before  he 
left  the  world  !  Well,  maybe  James  the 
First,  tiis  murderer,  is  compelled  to 
smoke  "  two  for  five  "  where  he  is. 


2O  THE  DISCOVERY  OF  TOBACCO. 

THE  DISCOVERY  OF  TOBACCO. 

A  Sailor's  Version. 

THEY  were  three  jolly  sailors  bold, 

Who  sailed  across  the  sea ; 
They'd  braved  the  storm,  and  stood  the  gale, 

And  got  to  Virgin-ee. 

'Twas  in  the  days  of  good  Queen  Bess,— 

Or  p'raps  a  bit  before,— 
And  now  these  here  three  sailors  bold 

Went  cruising  on  the  shore. 
A  lurch  to  starboard,  one  to  port, 

Now  forrard,  boys,  go  we, 

With  a  haul  and  a  "  Ho  !  "  and  a  "That's  your 
sort ! " 

To  find  out  Tobac-kee. 

Says  Jack,  "  This  here's  a  rummy  land." 

Says  Tom,  "  Well,  shiver  me ! 
The  sun  shines  out  as  precious  hot 

As  ever  I  did  see." 
Says  Dick,  "  Messmates,  since  here  we  be  "— • 

And  gave  his  eye  a  wink — 
"  We've  come  to  find  out  Tobac-kee, 

Which  means  a  drop  to  drink." 

Says  Jack,  says  he,  "  The  In jins  think " 

Says  Tom,  "I'll  swear  as  they 
Don't  think  at  all. "    Says  Dick,  "  You're  right ; 

It  aint  thei^  «at'ral  way. 


THE  DISCOVERY  OF  TOBACCO.          21 

But  I  want  to  find  out,  niy  lads, 

This  stuff  of  which  they  tell ; 
For  if,  as  it  aint  meant  to  drink, 

Why,  it  must  be  meant  to  smell." 

Says  Tom,  says  he,  "  To  drink  or  smell, 

I  don't  think  this  here's  meant." 
Says  Jack,  says  he,  "  Blame  my  old  eyes, 

If  I'll  believe  it's  scent." 
"Well,  then,"  says  Dick,  "  if  that  aint  square, 

It  must  be  meant  for  meat ; 
So  come  along,  my  jovial  mates, 

To  find  what's  good  to  eat." 

They  came  across  a  great  big  plant, 

A-growing  tall  and  true. 
Says  Jack,  says  he,  "I'm  precious  dry," 

And  picked  a  leaf  to  chew. 
While  Tom  takes  up  a  sun-dried  bit. 

A-lying  by  the  trees  ; 
He  rubs  it  in  his  hands  to  dust 

And  then  begins  to  sneeze. 

Another  leaf  picks  nimble  Dick, 

And  dries  it  in  the  sun, 
And  rolls  it  up  all  neat  and  tight. 

"  My  lads,"  said  he  in  fun, 
"I  mean  to  cook  this  precious  weed." 

And  then  from  out  his  poke 
With  burning-glass  he  lights  the  end, 

And  quick  blows  up  the  smoke. 

Says  Jack,  says  he,  "  Of  Paradise 
I've  heerd  some  people  tell," 


22  THE  DISCOVERY  OF  TOBACCO. 

Says  Tom,  says  he,  "This  here  will  do; 

Let's  have  another  smell." 
Says  Dick,  his  face  all  pleasant  smiles, 

A-looking  through  a  cloud, 
"It  strikes  me  here's  the  Cap'n  bold, 

And  now  we'll  all  be  rowed." 

Up  comes  brave  Hawkins  on  the  beach  ; 

"  Shiver  my  hull !  "  he  cries, 
"  What's  these  here  games,  my  merrj^  men?'' 

And  then,  "  Why,  blame  my  eyes  ! 
Here's  one  as  chaws,  and  one  as  snuffs, 

And  t'other  of  the  three 
Is  smoking  like  a  chimbley-pot — 

They've  found  out  Tobac-kee! " 

So  if  ever  you  should  hear 

Of  Raleigh  and  them  lies 
About  his  sarvant  and  his  pipe 

And  him  as  "Fire  !  "  cries, 
You  say  as  'twas  three  sailors  bold 

As  sailed  to  Virgin-ee 
In  brave  old  Hawkins1  gallant  ship 

Who  found  out  Tobac-kee. 

—Cigar  and  Tobacco  World*  London- 


A  FEW  WORDS  ABOUT  TOBACCO.          23 

A  FEW  WORDS  ABOUT 
TOBACCO. 

ALTHOUGH  Jean  Nicot,  a  French  am- 
bassador to  Portugal,  is  credited  with 
the  greatest  service  in,  giving  tobacco  its 
official  recognition,  it  was  really  first 
introduced  into  Europe  in  1558  by  Fran- 
cisco Fernandes,  a  physician  who  had 
been  sent  by  Philip  II.  of  Spain  to  inves- 
tigate the  products  of  Mexico. 

Nicot,  however,  on  his  return  to 
France  in  about  1560,  carried  it  to 
Catherine  de  Medici,  the  Queen  ;  and  the 
reception  it  met  with  from  her  and  other 
titled  personages  gave  it  reputation  and 
popularity. 

From  Nicot  and  the  Queen  were  derived 
the  titles,  "  Queen's  Heat  "  (Nicotiana), 
and  subsequently  to  one  of  its  prepa- 
rations, "  The  Powder  of  the  Queen." 

Lofty  example  and  the  sanction  of  high 
life  gave  currency  to  any  custom  ;  hence 
tobacco  became  generally  used. 


24  THE  ORIGIN   OF  TOBACCO. 

The  French  give  Sir  Francis  Drake 
the  credit  of  carrying  it  to  England,  and 
there  is  no  doubt  but  what  Sir  Walter 
and  Sir  Francis  succeeded  in  making 
tobacco  a  fashionable  luxury.  From 
there  it  spread.  Every  lover  of  the  plant 
can  easily  imagine  the  rest. 

THE  ORIGIN  OF  TOBACCO. 

THE  Prophet  was  taking  a  stroll  in  the 
country  when  he  saw  a  serpent,  stiff  with 
cold,  lying  on  the  ground.  He  compas- 
sionately took  it  up  and  warmed  it  in 
his  bosom.  When  the  serpent  had  re- 
covered, it  said : 

"Divine  Prophet,  listen.  I  am  now 
going  to  bite  thee." 

"  Why,  pray  ?  "  inquired  Mahomet. 

"Because  thy  race  persecutest  mine 
and  tries  to  stamp  it  out." 

"  But  does  not  thy  race,  too,  make 
perpetual  war  against  mine?"  was  the 
Prophet's  rejoinder.  "How  canst  thou, 


THE  ORIGIN   OF  TOBACCO.  25 

besides,  be  so  ungrateful,  and  so  soon 
forget  that  I  saved  thy  life  ?  " 

"  There  is  no  such  thing  as  gratitude 
upon  this  earth,"  replied  the  serpent, 
"  and  if  I  were  now  to  spare  thee,  either 
thou  or  another  of  thy  race  would  kill 
me.  By  Allah,  I  shall  bite  thee !  " 

"  If  thou  hast  sworn  by  Allah,  I  will 
not  cause  thee  to  break  thy  vow,"  said 
the  Prophet,  holding  his  hand  to  the 
serpent's  mouth.  The  serpent  bit  him, 
but  he  sucked  the  wound  with  his  lips 
and  spat  the  venom  on  the  ground.  And 
on  that  very  spot  there  sprung  up  a  plant 
which  combines  within -itself  the  venom 
of  the  serpent  and  the  compassion  of  the 
Prophet.  Men  call  this  plant  by  the 
name  of  tobacco. — Conte  Arabe. 

CLOUDS. 

MORTALS  say  their  hearts  are  light 
When  the  clouds  around  disperse ; 

Clouds  to  gather  thick  as  night, 
Is  the  smoker's  universe. 
—From  the  German  of  Bauernfeld. 


26          THE  PHILOSOPHY   OF   SMOKING. 


THE  SMOKING  PHILOSOPHER 

His  whole  amusement  was  his 
pipe  ;  and,  as  there  is  a  certain  in- 
definable link  between  smoking  and 
philosophy,  my  father,  by  dint  of 
smoking-,  had  become  a  philoso- 
pher. It  is  no  less  strange  than  true  that 
we  can  puff  away  our  cares  with  tobacco, 
when  without  it  they  remain  an  oppres- 
sive burthen  to  existence.  There  is 
no  composing  draught  like  the  draught 
through  the  tube  of  a  pipe.  The  savage 
warriors  of  North  America  enjoyed  the 
blessing  before  we  did ;  and  to  the  pipe 
is  to  be  ascribed  the  wisdom  of  their 
councils,  and  the  laconic  delivery  of  their 
sentiments.  It  would  be  well  introduced 
into  our  own  legislative  assembly.  Ladies, 
indeed,  would  no  longer  peep  down 
through  the  ventilator  ;  but  we  should 
have  more  sense  and  fewer  words.  It  is 
also  to  tobacco  that  is  to  be  ascribed 


THE   PHILOSOPHY   OF   SMOKING.          27 

the  stoical  firmness  of  those  American 
warriors  who,  satisfied  with  the  pipe  in 
their  mouths,  submitted  with  perfect  in- 
difference to  the  torture  of  their  enemies. 
From  the  virtues  of  this  weed  arose  that 
peculiar  expression  when  you  irritate  an- 
other, that  you  "  put  his  pipe  out." 

— Marry  at' s  "Jacob  Faithful'* 


WITH  PIPE  AND  BOOK. 

WITH  Pipe  and  Book  at  close  of  day, 
Oh,  what  is  sweeter,  mortal,  say  ? 
It  matters  not  what  book  on  knee, 
Old  Izaak  or  the  Odyssey, 
It  matters  not  meerschaum  or  clay. 

And  though  one's  eyes  will  dream  astray, 
And  lips  forget  to  sue  or  sway, 
It  is  "  enough  to  merely  be  " 
With  Pipe  and  Book. 

What  though  our  modern  skies  be  gray, 
As  bards  aver,  I  will  not  pray 
For  "  soothing  Death  "  to  succor  me, 
But  ask  this  much,  O  Fate,  of  thee, 
A  little  longer  yet  to  stay 
With  Pipe  and  BooV, 

—RICHARD  LE  GALLIENN& 


28          THE   PHILOSOPHY  OF  SMOKING. 


CARLYLE  ON  TOBACCO. 

"TOBACCO  smoke,"  says  Carlyle,  "is 
the  one  element  in  which,  by  our  Euro- 
pean manners,  men  can  sit  silent  together 
without  embarrassment,  and  where  no 
man  is  bound  to  speak  one  word  more 
than  he  has  actually  and  veritably  got  to 
say.  Nay,  rather  every  man  is  admon- 
ished and  enjoined  by  the  laws  of  honor, 
and  even  of  personal  ease,  to  stop  short 
of  that  point ;  and  at  all  events  to  hold 
his  peace  and  take  to  his  pipe  again  the 
instant  he  has  spoken  his  meaning,  if  he 
chance  to  have  any.  The  results  of  which 
salutary  practice,  if  introduced  into  con- 
stitutional parliaments,  might  evidently 
be  incalculable.  The  essence  of  what 
little  intellect  and  insight  there  is  in  that 
room — we  shall  or  can  get  nothing  more 
out  of  any  parliament ;  and  sedative, 
gently  soothing,  gently  clarifying,  tobacco 
smoke  (if  the  room  were  well  ventilated, 


THE   PHILOSOPHY   OF   SMOKING.          2Q 

open  atop,  and  the  air  kept  good),  with 
the  obligation  to  a  minimum  of  speech, 
surely  gives  human  intellect  and  insight 
the  best  chance  they  can  have." 


IN  FAVOR  OF  TOBACCO. 

MUCH  victuals  serves  for  gluttony 
To  fatten  men  like  swine  ; 
But  he's  a  frugal  man  indeed 
That  with  a  leaf  can  dine, 
And  needs  no  napkin  for  his  hands, 
His  fingers'  ends  to  wipe, 
But  keeps  his  kitchen  in  a  box, 
And  roast  meat  in  a  pipe. 
—SAMUEL  ROWLANDS. 

Knave  of  Clubs  (i6uX 


A  PIPE  OF  TOBACCQ 

LITTLE  tube  of  mighty  power, 
Charmer  of  an  idle  hour, 
Object  of  my  warm  desire, 
Lip  of  wax,  and  eye  of  fire : 
And  thy  snowy  taper  waist, 
With  my  finger  gently  braced; 
And  thy  pretty  swelling  crest, 
With  niy  little  stopper  press'd, 
And  the  sweetest  bliss  of  blisses, 
Breathing  from  thy  balmy  kisses. 


3O         THE   PHILOSOPHY   OF   SMOKING. 

Happy  thrice,  and  thrice  agen, 
Happiest  he  of  happy  men, 
Who  when  agen  the  night  returns, 
When  agen  the  taper  burns ; 
When  agen  the  cricket's  gay 
(Little  cricket  full  of  play), 
Can  afford  his  tube  to  feed 
With  the  fragrant  Indian  weed  f 
Pleasure  for  a  nose  divine, 
Incense  of  the  god  of  wine. 
Happy  thrice,  and  thrice  agen 
Happiest  he  of  happy  men. 

—ISAAC  HAWKINS  BROWNE  (1736). 


BULWER-LYTTON    ON 
TOBACCO  SMOKING. 

HE  who  doth  not  smoke  hath  either 
known  no  great  griefs,  or  refuseth  himself 
the  softest  consolation,  next  to  that  which 
comes  from  heaven.  "  What  softer  than 
a  woman  ?  "  whispers  the  young  reader. 

Young  reader,  woman  teases  as  well  as 
consoles.  Woman  makes  half  the  sorrows 
which  she  boasts  the  privilege  to  soothe. 

Woman  consoles  us,  it  is  true,  while 
we  are  young  and  handsome;  when  we 


THE  PHILOSOPHY   OF   SMOKING.          31 

are    old    and  ugly,  woman  snubs   and 
scolds  us. 

On  the  whole,  then,  woman  in  this 
scale,  the  weed  in  that.  Jupiter !  hang 
out  thy  balance,  and  weigh  them  both; 
and  if  thou  give  the  preference  to  woman, 
all  I  can  say  is,  the  next  time  Juno  ruffles 
thee,  O  Jupiter !  try  the  weed.—"  What 
Will  He  Do  with  It?" 


INVOCATION  TO  TOBACCO. 

WEED  of  the  strange  flower,  weed  of  the  earth. 

Killer  of  dullness,  parent  of  mirth. 

Come  in  the  sad  hour,  come  in  the  gay, 

Appear  in  the  night,  or  in  the  day, — 

Still  thou  art  welcome  as  June's  blooming  rose, 

Joy  of  the  palate,  delight  of  the  nose ! 

Weed  of  the  green  leld,  weed  of  the  wild, 
Fostered  in  freedom,  America's  child, 
Come  in  Virginia,  come  in  Havana ; 
Friend  of  the  universe,  sweeter  than  manna — 
Still  thou  art  welcome,  rich,  fragrant,  and  ripe. 
Pride  of  the  tube-case,  delight  of  the  pipe  1 

Weed  of  the  savage,  weed  of  each  pole, 
Comforting,  soothing  philosophy's  soul, 


32          THE   PHILOSOPHY   OF   SMOKING. 

Come  in  the  snuff-box,  come  in  cigar, 
In  Strasburgh  and  Kings',  come  from  afar,— » 
Still  thou  art  welcome,  the  purest,  the  best, 
Joy  of  earth's  millions,  forever  caresst ! 

—HENRY  JAMES  MELLEN. 


THE  HAPPY  SMOKER. 

WHEN  I  am  "  broke,"  I  take  a  smoke- 
Comfort  is  my  aim — 

Likewise  when  "flush"— or  maybe  "lush," 
I  gently  nurse  the  flame. 

The  wreaths  of  smoke  that  round  me  roll, 

Prom  "  Garcia  "  or  from  carven  bowl, 
Drive  care  away 
And  make  the  day — 

If  dark,  all  bright ;  if  bright,  then  more 

Of  joy  is  added  to  my  store. 

And  so  I  puff,  morn,  noon,  and  night, 

The  gods  be  thanked  for  this  sweet  "  light. * 
— E.  BONFILS. 


SAM  SLICK  ON  THE  VIRTUES 
OF  A  PIPE. 

"THE  fact  is,  squire,  the  moment  a 
man  takes  to  a  pipe,  he  becomes  a  phi- 


THE  PHILOSOPHY   OF   SMOKING.          33 

losopher.  It's  the  poor  man's  friend  ;  it 
calms  the  mind,  soothes  the  temper,  and 
makes  a  man  patient  under  difficulties. 
It  has  made  more  good  men,  good  hus- 
bands, kind  masters,  indulgent  fathers, 
than  any  other  blessed  thing  on  this 
universal  earth." 

— "  Sam  Slick,  the  Clockmaker" 


OPINION    OF   ST.    PIERRE    ON 
THE  EFFECT  OF  TOBACCO. 

THE  author  of  "  Paul  and  Virginia " 
remarks  :  "  It  is  true  that  tobacco  in  some 
measure  augments  our  power  of  judg- 
ment by  exciting  the  nerves  of  the  brain. 
This  plant  is,  however,  a  veritable  poison, 
and  in  the  long  run  affects  the  sense  of 
smell  and  sometimes  the  nerves  of  the 
eye.  But  man  is  always  ready  to  impair 
his  physical  constitution  provided  he  can 
strengthen  his  'intellectual  sentiment' 
thereby." 


34         THE  PHILOSOPHY   OF   SMOKING. 


SMOKE  DREAMS. 

TOBACCO  smoke !    Blue-gray  in  wreaths, — 

Blue  laurel-wreaths  which  float  in  air, 
As  if,  invisible,  serene, 

A  dreaming  angel  hovered  there. 
A  spirit  of  calm  kindliness, — 

A  touch  of  eyes  that  smile  through  tears,- 
A  mantle  of  forgetfulness, 

Thrown  on  the  passions  of  the  years. 

I  cross  my  knees,  1  puff  my  pipe, 

The  gentle  Summer  warmth  creeps  in  ; 
The  Summer  warmth  'mid  Winter's  snows,- 

For  indolence  shall  banish  sin, — 
And  watch  the  tasseled  smoke-drops  fall, 

And  note  the  fringed  smoke-plumes  rise, 
And  see  the  dreams,  in  legions,  turn 

To  smoky  notnings  in  the  skies. 

Tobacco  smoke,  like  silken  web, 

Suspended  fn  the  restful  airs, 
To  me  and  mine,  in  soothing  rhymes 

A  dainty,  artless  burden  bears  ; 
Let  cares  rage  on — let  hopes  renew — 

The  Yesterday,  To-morrow  be — 
But  we  are  wise,  the  smoke  and  I ; 

We  cease  regrets  and  troubles  flee. 

—A.  B.  TUCKER- 


THE  PHILOSOPHY   OF   SMOKING.          35 

GUIZOT. 

A  LADY,  one  evening,  calling  on  Guizot, 
the  historian  of  France,  found  him  ab- 
sorbed in  his  pipe.  In  astonishment  she 
exclaimed  :  "  What !  you  smoke  and  yet 
have  arrived  at  so  great  an  age  ! "  "  Ah, 
madam,"  replied  the  venerable  states- 
man, "  if  I  had  not  smoked  I  should  have 
been  dead  ten  years  ago." 


MY  PIPE. 

WHEN  love  grows  cool,  thy  fire  still  warms  me ; 
When  friends  are  fled,  thy  presence  charms  me. 
If  thou  art  full,  though  purse  be  bare, 
I  smoke  and  cast  away  all  care  ! 

—German  Smoking  Song. 


POETRY   OF   SMOKE. 


LATAKIA. 

WHEN  all  the  panes  are  hung  wfth  frost 

Wild  wizard-work  of  silver  lace, 
I  draw  my  sofa  on  the  rug, 

Bef  re  the  ancient  chimney-plac>a 
Upon  th  :  painted  tiles  are  mosques 
And  minarets,  and  here  and  there 
A  blind  muezzin  lifts  his  hands, 

And  calls  the  faithful  unto  prayer. 
Folded  in  idle,  twilight  dreams, 
I  hear  the  hemlock  chirp  and  sing, 
As  if  within  its  ruddy  core 

It  held  the  happy  heart  of  spring. 
Ferdousi  never  sang  like  that, 

Nor  Saadi  grave,  nor  Hafiz  gay  ; 
I  lounge,  and  blow  white  rings  of  smoke, 
And  watch  them  rise  and  float  away. 

The  curling  wreaths  like  turbans  seem 

Of  silent  slaves  that  come  and  go— 
Or  Viziers,  packed  with  craft  and  crime. 
Whom  I  behead  from  time  to  time, 

With  pipe-stem,  at  a  single  blow. 
And  now  and  then  a  lingering  cloud 

Takes  gracious  form  at  my  desire, 
And  at  my  side  my  lady  stands, 
Unwinds  her  veil  with  snowy  hands — 

A  shadowy  shape,  a  breath  of  fire  I 
Oh,  Love  !  if  you  were  only  here, 

Beside  me  in  this  mellow  light, 


POETRY   OF   SMOKE.  37 

Though  all  the  bitter  winds  should  blow, 
And  all  the  ways  be  choked  with  snow, 
'TwouJd  be  a  true  Arabian  night  I 

— T.  B.  ALDRICH. 


SUBLIME  TOBACCO. 

SUBLIME  tobacco  !  which,  from  east  to  west, 
Cheers  the  tar  s  labor  or  the  Turkman's  rest , 
Which  on  the  Moslem's  ottoman  divides 
His  hours,  and  rivals  opium  and  his  brides  ; 
Magnificent  in  Stamboul,  but  less  grand, 
Though   not  less  loved,  in  Wapping  on  the 

Strand ; 

Divine  in  hookas,  glorious  in  a  pipe, 
When  tipp'd  with  amber,  mellow,   rich,   and 

ripe; 

Like  other  charmers,  wooing  the  caress 
More  daz/Jingly  when  daring  in  full  dress/ 
Yet  thy  true  lovers  more  admire,  by  fai\ 
Thy  naked  beauties — give  me  a  cigar ! 

—LORD  BYRON, 
The  Island^  Canto  //,  Stanza  /V 


38  POETRY   OF   SMOKE. 


VIRGINIA  TOBACCO. 

Two  maiden  dames  of  sixty-two 

Together  long  had  dwelt ; 
Neither,  alas  !  of  love  so  true 

The  bitter  pang  had  felt. 

But  age  comes  on,  they  say,  apace, 

To  warn  us  of  our  death, 
And  wrinkles  mar  the  fairest  face, — 

At  last  it  stops  our  breath. 

One  of  these  dames,  tormented  sore 
With  that  curst  pang,  toothache, 

Was  at  a  loss  for  such  a  bore 
What  remedy  to  take. 

"I've  heard,"  thought  she,  "this  ill  to  cure, 

A  pipe  is  good,  they  say. 
Well,  then,  tobacco  I'll  endure, 

And  smoke  the  pain  away." 

The  pipe  was  lit,  the  tooth  soon  well. 

And  she  retired  to  rest, 
When  then  the  other  ancient  belle 

Her  spinster  maid  addressed,— 

"  Let  me  request  a  favor,  pray  "— 

•'  I'll  do  it  if  I  can  "— 
"  Oh  !  well,  then,  love,  smoke  every  day, 

You  smell  so  like  a  man  /  " 

—JOHN  STANLEY  GREGSON. 


POETRY  OF  SMOKE. 


39 


A  GOOD  CIGAR. 

OH,  'tis  well  enough 
A  whiff  or  a  puff 

From  the  heart  of  a  pipe  to  get ; 
And  a  dainty  maid 
Or  a  budding  blade 

May  toy  with  the  cigarette  ; 
But  a  man,  when  the  time 
Of  a  glorious  prime 

Dawns  forth  like  a  morning  star, 
Wants  the  dark-brown  bloom 
And  the  sweet  perfume 

That  go  with  a  good  cigar. 


To  lazily  float 
In  a  painted  boat 

On  a  shimmering  morning  sea, 
Or  to  flirt  with  a  maid, 
In  the  afternoon  shade, 

Seems  good  enough  sport  to  be } 
But  the  evening  hour, 
With  its  subtle  power, 

Is  sweeter  and  better  far, 
If  joined  to  the  joy, 
Devoid  of  alloy, 

That  lurks  in  a  good  cigar. 

When  a  blanket  wet 
Is  solidly  set 
O'er  hopes  prematurely  grown  ; 


40  POETRY   OF   SMOKE. 

When  ambition  is  tame, 
And  enargy  lame, 

And  the  bloom  from  the  fruit  is  blown-. 
When  to  dance  and  to  dine, 
With  women  and  wine, 

Past  poverty  pleasures  are, — 
A  man's  not  bereft 
Of  all  peace,  if  there's  left 

The  joy  of  a  good  cigar. 

— NORRIS  BULL. 


A  POET'S  PIPE. 

From  the  French  of  Charles  Baudelaire. 

A  POET'S  pipe  am  I, 
And  my  Abyssinian  tint 
Is  an  unmistakable  hint 
That  he  lays  me  not  often  by. 
When  his  soul  is  with  grief  o'erworn, 
I  smoke  like  the  cottage  where 
They  are  cooking  the  evening  fare 
For  the  laborer's  return. 

I  enfold  and  cradle  his  soul 
In  the  vapors  moving  and  blue 
That  mount  from  my  fiery  mouth ; 
And  there  is  power  in  my  bowl 
To  charm  his  spirit  and  soothe, 
And  heal  his  weariness  too. 

—RICHARD  HERNE  SHEPHERD. 


POETRY   OF   SMOKE.  t 

THE    HAPPY    SMOKING 
GROUND. 

WHEN  that  last  pipe  is  smoked  at  last 
'     And  pouch  and  pipe  put  by, 
And  smoked  and  smoker  both  alike 

In  dust  and  ashes  lie, 
What  of  the  smoker  ?    Whither  passed  ? 

Ah,  will  he  smoke  no  more  ? 
And  will  there  be  no  golden  cloud 

Upon  the  golden  shore  ? 
Ah !  who  shall  say  we  cry  in  vain 

To  fate  upon  his  hill, 
For,  howsoe'er  we  ask  and  ask, 

He  goes  on  smoking  still. 
But,  surely,  'twere  a  bitter  thing 

If  other  men  pursue 
Their  various  earthly  joys  again 

Beyond  that  distant  blue, 
If  the  poor  smoker  might  not  ply 

His  peaceful  passion  too. 
If  Indian  braves  may  still  up  there 

On  merry  seal  pings  go, 
And  buried  Britons  rise  again 

With  arrow  and  with  bow, 
May  not  the  smoker  hope  to  take 

His  "cutty"  from  below? 
So  let  us  trust !  and  when  at  length 

You  lay  me  'neath  the  yew, 
Forget  not,  O  my  friends,  I  pray, 

Pipes  and  tobacco  too ! 

—RICHARD  LE  GALLIENNE, 


42  POETRY   OF   SMOKE. 


A  FAREWELL  TO  TOBACCO 

MAY  the  Babylonish  curse 

Straight  confound  my  stammering  verua 

If  I  can  a  passage  see 

In  this  word-perplexity, 

Or  a  fit  expression  find, 

Or  a  language  to  my  mind 

(Still  the  phrase  is  wide  or  scant) 

To  take  leave  of  thee,  Great  Plant  1 

Or  in  any  terms  relate 

Half  my  love  or  half  my  hate  : 

For  I  hate  yet  love  thee  so, 

That,  whichever  things  I  show, 

The  plain  truth  will  seem  to  be 

A  constrain'd  hyperbole, 

And  the  passion  to  proceed 

More  from  a  mistress  than  a  weed. 


Sooty  retainer  to  the  vine 

Bacchus'  black  servant,  negro-fine ; 

Sorcerer,  thou  makest  us  dote  upon 

Thy  begrimed  complexion, 

And  for  thy  pernicious  sake, 

More  and  greater  oaths  to  break 

Than  reclaimed  lovers  take 

'Gainst  women  ;  thou  thy  siege  dost  lay 

Much  too  in  the  female  way, 

While  thou  suck'st  the  laboring  breath 

Paster  than  kisses  or  than  death. 


POETRY   OF   SMOKE.  43 

Thou  in  such  a  cloud  dost  bind  us 
That  our  worst  foes  cannot  find  us, 
And  ill  fortune,  that  would  thwart  us, 
Shoots  at.  rovers,  shooting  at  us  ; 
While  each  man,  through  thy  height'ning 

steam 

Does  like  a  smoking  Etna  seem, 
And  all  about  us  does  express 
(Fancy  and  wit  in  richest  dress) 
A  Sicilian  fruitfulness. 

Thou  through  such  a  mist  dost  show  us 
That  our  best  friends  do  not  know  us, 
And  for  those  allowed  features, 
Due  to  reasonable  creatures, 
Liken'st  us  to  fell  Chimeras- 
Monsters  that,  who  see  us,  fear  us ; 
Worse  than  Cerberus  or  Geryon 
Or,  who  first  loved  a  cloud,  Ixion. 

Bacchus  we  know,  and  we  allow 
His  tipsy  rites.    But  what  art  thou, 
That  but  by  reflex  canst  show 
What  his  deity  can  do, 
AS  the  false  Egyptian  spell 
Aped  the  true  Hebrew  miracle, 
Some  few  vapors  thou  may'st  raise, 
The  weak  brain  may  serve  to  amaze, 
But  to  the  reins  and  nobler  heart 
Canst  not  life  nor  heat  impart. 

Brother  of  Bacchus,  later  born, 
The  old  world  was  sure  forlorn 


44  POETRY   OF   SMOKE. 

Wanting  thee  ;  thou  aidest  more 
The  god's  victories  than  before 
All  his  panthers  and  the  brawls 
Of  his  piping  Bacchanals. 
These  as  stale,  we  disallow, 
Or  judge  of  thee  meant :  only  thou 
His  true  Indian  conquest  art ; 
And,  for  ivy  round  his  dart, 
The  reformed  god  now  weaves 
A  finer  thyrsus  of  thy  leaves. 

Scent  to  match  thy  rich  perfume 
Through  his  quaint  alembic  strain, 
None  so  sovereign  to  the  brain. 
Nature  that  did  in  thee  excel, 
Framed  again  no  second  smell. 
Roses,  violets  but  toys 
For  the  smaller  sort  of  boys, 
Or  for  greener  damsels  meant; 
Thou  art  the  only  manly  scent. 

Stinking'st  of  the  stinking  kind, 
Filth  of  the  mouth  and  fogs  of  the  mind ; 
Africa,  that  brags  her  foison, 
Breeds  no  such  prodigious  poison, 
Henbane,  nightshade,  both  together, 
Hemlock,  aconite- 
Nay,  rather, 

Plant  divine,  of  rarest  virtue  ; 
Blisters  on  the  tongue  would  hurt  you. 
'Twas  but  in  a  sort  I  blamed  thee, 
None  e'er  prosper'd  who  defamed  thee : 
Irony  all  and  feign'd  abuse, 
fcuch  as  perplexed  lovers  use 


POETRY   OF    SMOKE.  45 

At  a  need  when,  in  despair, 
To  paint  forth  their  fairest  fair, 
Or  in  part  but  to  express 
That  exceeding  comeliness 
Which  their  fancies  doth  so  strike, 
They  borrow  language  of  dislike, 
And,  instead  of  Dearest  Miss, 
Jewel,  Honey,  Sweetheart,  Bliss, 
Call  her  Cockatrice  and  Siren, 
Basilisk,  and  all  that's  evil, 
Witch,  Hyena,  Mermaid,  Devil. 
Ethiop,  Wench,  and  Blackamoor, 
Monkey,  Ape,  and  twenty  more : 
Friendly  Traitress,  Loving  Foe — 
Not  that  she  is  truly  so, 
But  no  other  way  they  know 
A  contentment  to  express, 
Borders  so  upon  excess, 
That  they  do  not  rightly  wot 
Whether  it  be  pain  or  not. 

Or  as  men,  constrain'd  to  part 
With  what's  nearest  to  their  heart. 
While  their  sorrow's  at  the  height, 
Lose  discrimination  quite, 
And  their  hasty  wrath  let  fall 
To  appease  their  frantic  gall, 
On  the  darling  thing  whatever 
Whence  they  feel  it  death  to  sever, 
Though  it  be,  as  they,  perforce, 
Guiltless  of  the  sad  divorce. 
For  I  must  (nor  let  it  grieve  thee, 
Friendliest  of  plants,  that  I  must)  leave 
thee. 


POETRY   OF   SMOKE. 

For  thy  sake,  Tobacco,  I 
Would  do  anything  but  die, 
And  but  seek  to  extend  my  days 
Long  enough  to  sing  thy  praise. 

But  as  she  who  once  hath  been 

A  king's  consort  is  a  queen 

Ever  after,  nor  will  bate 

Any  tittle  of  her  state 

Though  a  widow,  or  divorced, 

So  I  from  my  converse  forced. 

The  old  name  and  style  retain, 

A  right  Katherine  of  Spain  ; 

And  a  seat,  too,  'mongst  the  joys 

Of  the  blest  Tobacco  Boys ; 

Where,  though  I,  by  sour  physician, 

Am  debarr'd  the  full  fruition 

Of  thy  favors,  I  may  catch 

Some  collateral  sweets,  and  snatch 

Sidelong  odors,  that  give  life 

Like  glances  from  a  neighbor's  wife ; 

And  still  live  in  the  by-places 

And  the  suburbs  of  thy  graces , 

And  in  thy  borders  take  delight 

An  unconquer'd  Canaanite. 

—CHARLES  LAMB. 


INSCRIPTION  FOR  A  TOBACCO 
JAR. 

KEEP  me  at  hand  ;  and  as  my  fumes  arise, 
You'll  find  a.  jar  the  gates  of  Paradise. 

— Cope ' s  Tobacco  Plant. 


POETRY   OF   SMOKE.  47 

THE  SCENT  OF  A  GOOD 
CIGAR. 

WHAT    is    it    comes  through   the   deepening 

dusk,— 

Something  sweeter  than  jasmine  scent, 
Sweeter  than  rose  and  violet  blent, 
More  potent  in  power  than  orange  or  musk  ? 
The  scent  of  a  good  cigar. 


I  am  all  alone  in  my  quiet  room,  • 
And  the  windows  are  open  wide  and  free 
To  let  in  the  south  wind's  kiss  for  me, 

While  I  rock  in  the  softly  gathering  gloom, 
And  that  subtle  fragrance  steals. 


Just  as  a  loving,  tender  hand 
Will  sometimes  steal  in  yours, 
It  softly  comes  through  the  open  doors, 

And  memory  wakes  at  its  command, — 
The  scent  of  that  good  cigar. 


And  what  does  it  say  ?    Ah  !  that's  for  me 
And  my  heart  alone  to  know  ; 
But  that  heart  thrills  with  a  sudden  glow, 
Tears  fill  my  eyes  till  I  cannot  see,— 

Prom  the  scent  of  that  good  cigar. 

—  KATE  A.  CARRINGTON. 


48  POETRY   OF   SMOKE. 

IN  THE  OL'  TOBACKER 
PATCH. 

J  JESS  kind  o'  feel  so  lonesome  that  I  don't  know 

what  to  do, 
When  I  think  about  them  days  we  used  to 

spend 
A-hoein'  our  tobacker  in  th'  clearin'— me  an' 

you — 

An'  a-wishin'  that  the  day  was  at  an  end. 
For   the   dewdrops   was   a-sparklin'    on   the 

beeches'  tender  leaves 
As  we  started  out  a-workin'  in  the  morn ; 
An'  th'  noonday  sun  was  sendin'  down  a  shower 

of  burnin'  leaves 

When  we  heard  the  welcome-soundin'  dinner- 
horn. 
An'  th'  shadders  round  us  gathered  in  a  sort  of 

ghostly  batch, 

'Fore  we  started  home  from  workin'  in  that 
ol'  tobacker  patch. 


I'm  a-feelin'  mighty  lonesome,  as  I  look  aroun* 

to-day, 
For  I  see  th'  change  that's  taken  place  since 

then. 
All  th'  hills  is  brown  and  faded,  for  th'  woods 

is  cleared  away, 

You  an'  me  has  changed  from  ragged  boys 
to  men ; 


POETRY   OF   SMOKE.  49 

You  are  Hvin'  in  th'  city  that  we  ust  to  dream 

about ; 

I  am  still  a-dwellin'  here  upon  the  place, 
But  my  form  is  bent  an'  feeble,  which  was  once 

so  straight  and  stout, 
An'  there's  most  a  thousand  wrinkles  on  my 

face. 
You  have  made  a  mint  of  money ;  I  perhaps 

have  been  your  match, 
But  we  both  enjoyed  life  better   in  that  ol' 

tobacker  patch. 

— s.  Q.  LAPIUS. 


MOTTO  FOR  A  TOBACCO  JAR. 

COME  !  don't  refuse  sweet  Nicotina's  aid, 
But  woo  the  goddess  through  a  yard  of  clay ; 
And  soon  vou'll  own  she  is  the  fairest  maid 
To  stifle  pain,  and  drive  old  Care  away. 
Nor  deem  it  waste,  what  though  to  ash  she 

burns, 
If  for  your  outlay  you  get  good  returns! 


A  STUB  OF  CIGAR. 

You  ask  what  it  means,  and  a  look  of  scorn 
Mars  your  fair  face,  dear  Lady  Disdain  ; 

But  to  me  it  recalls  a  bright  summer  morn 
When  cherries  were  red  down  a  long  country 
lane! 


JO  POETRY  OF  SMOKE. 

I  close  my  eyes,  and  a.  rustle  of  wheat 
Comes  borne  on  a.  breeze  whose  breath  is  a 

balm; 
A  breeze  heavy  with  sweet  clover-bloom  at  my 

feet, 
.   Which  brings  to  my  spirit  an  infinite  calm. 


And  once  more  I  see,  though  my  eyes  are 

closed  fast, 

A  face  kindly  tender,  and  manly,  and  true — 
A  friendship  once  vowed  that  was  given  to 

last, 

And  eyes  that  reflected  the  heaven's  own 
blue. 


As  two  sailing  ships  in  mid-ocean  meet. 
Salute,  and  pass  on  to  far  distant  lands, 

We  met,  to  find  only  friendship  was  sweet, 
When  we  were  compelled  to  clasp  parting 
hands. 


And  the  voice  of  that  comrade  who  strolled  by 

my  side 
Comes  again  to  my  ear,  thro'  days  vanished 

afar, 

And  that's  why  I  cherish  it,  almost  with  pride, 
This  poor,  little,  wasted,  sad  stub  of  cigar ! 
— VOLNEY  STREAMER. 
July  .,1889. 


POETRY   OF   SMOKE.  5! 

THE  PIPE   YOU  MAKE  YOUR- 
SELF. 

THERE'S  clay  pipes  an'  briar  pipes  and  meer- 
schaum pipes  as  well ; 

There's  plain  pipes  an'  fancy  pipes— things  jest 
made  to  sell ; 

But  any  pipe  that  can  be  bought  fer  marbles, 
chalk,  or  pelf, 

Aint  ekal  to  the  flaver  of  the  pipe  you  make 
yourself. 


Jest  take  a  common  corn  cob  an*  whittle  out 

the  middle, 
Then  plug  up  one  end  of  it  as  tight  as  any 

fiddle ; 

Fit  a  stem  into  th'  side  an'  lay  her  on  th'  shelf, 
An'  when  she's  dry  you  take  her  down— that 

pipe  you  made  yourself. 


Cram  her  full  clar  to  th'  brim  with  nachral 

leaf,  you  bet — 
'Twill  smoke  a  trifle  better  for  bein'  somewhat 

wet — 
Take  your  worms  and  fishin'  pole,  and  a  jug 

along  for  health ; 
An'  you'll  get  a  taste  o'  heaven  from  that  pipe 

you  made  yourself. 

—HENRY  E.  BROWN. 


POETRY   OF   SMOKE. 


SMOKING  AWAY. 

FLOATING  away  like  the  fountain's  spray, 
Or  the  snow-white  plume  of  a  maiden, 

The  smoke-wreaths  rise  to  the  starlit  skies 
With  blissful  fragrance  laden. 

Chorus.— Then  smoke  away  till  a  golden  ray 

Lights  up  the  dawn  of  the  morrow, 
For  a  cheerful  cigar,  like  a  shield,  will 

bar, 
The  blows  of  care  and  sorrow. 

The  leaf  burns  bright  like  the  gems  of  night 
That  flash  in  the  braids  of  Beauty  ; 

It  nerves  each  heart  for  the  hero's  part 
On  the  battle  plain  of  duty. 

In  the  thoughtful  gloom  of  his  darkened  room, 

Sits  the  child  of  song  and  story, 
But  his  heart  is  light,  for  his  pipe  burns  bright, 

And  his  dreams  are  all  of  glory. 

By,  the  blazing  fire  sits  the  gray -haired  sire, 

And  infant  arms  surround  him  ; 
And  he  smiles  on  all  in  that  quaint  old  hall, 

While  the  smoke-curls  float  around  him. 

In  the  forest  grand  of  our  native  land, 

When  the  savage  conflict  ended, 
The  "  Pipe  of  Peace  "  brought  a  sweet  release 

From  toil  and  terror  blended. 


POETRY    OF   SMOKE.  53 

The  dark-eyed  train  of  the  maids  of  Spain, 
Neath  their  arbor  shades  trip  lightly, 

And  a  gleaming  cigar,  like  a  newborn  star, 
In  the  clasp  of  their  lips  burns  brightly. 

It  warms  the  soul,  like  the  blushing  bowl, 
With  its  rose-red  burden  streaming, 

And  drowns  it  in  bliss,  like  the  first  warm  kiss, 
From  the  lips  with  love-buds  teaming. 
—FRANCIS  MILES  FINCH. 


TOBACCO. 

THE  Indian  weed,  withered  quite, 
Green  at  noon,  cut  down  at  night, 
Shows  thy  decay  ;  all  flesh  is  hay. 
Thus  thinke,  then  drinke  tobacco. 

The  pipe  that  is  so  lily-white 
Shows  thee  to  be  a  mortal  wight ; 
And  even  such,  gone  with  a  touch. 
Thus  thinke,  then  drinke  tobacco. 

And  when  the  smoke  ascends  on  high, 
Thinke  thou  beholdst  the  vanity 
Of  worldly  stuffe,  gone  with  a  puffe. 
Thus  thinke,  then  drinke  tobacco. 

And  when  the  pipe  grows  foul  within. 
Think  on  thy  soule  defil'd  with  sin, 
And  then  the  fire  it  doth  require. 
Thus  thinke,  then  drinke  tobacco. 


54  POETRY   OF   SMOKE. 

The  ashes  that  are  left  behind 
May  serve  to  put  thee  still  in  mind, 
That  unto  dust  return  thou  must. 
Thus  thinke,  then  drinke  tobacco. 

—GEORGE  WITHER,  i6«x 


A  MAIDEN'S  WISH. 

THE  following  is  derived  from  a  New 
York  paper :  "A  thoughtful  girl  says 
that  when  she  dies  she  desires  to  have 
tobacco  planted  over  her  grave,  that  the 
weed  nourished  by  her  dust  may  be 
chewed  by  her  bereaved  lovers."  Stein- 
metz  has  suggested  the  lines  given  below 
as  a  suitable  epitaph  for  this  tobacco- 
loving  maiden  : 

"  Let  no  cold  marble  o'er  my  body  rise, 
But  only  earth  above  and  sunny  skies. 
Thus  would  I  lowly  lie  in  peaceful  rest, 
Nursing  the  Herb  Divine,  from  out  my  breast. 
Green  let  it  grow  above  this  clay  of  mine, 
Deriving  strength  from  strength  that  I  resign. 
So  in  the  days  to  come,  when  I'm  beyond 
This  fickle  life,  will  come  my  lovers  fond, 
And,  gazing  on  the  plant,  their  grief  restrain 
In  whispering, '  Lo !  dear  Anna  blooms  againl*  * 


POETRY    OF   SMOKE.  55 


MY  CIGARETTE. 

MY  CIGARETTE  !    The  amulet 

That  charms  afar  unrest  and  sorrow, 
The  magic  wand  that,  far  beyond 

To-day,  can  conjure  up  to-morrow. 
Like  love's  desire,  thy  crown  of  fire 

So  softly  with  the  twilight  blending ; 
And  ah  !  meseems  a  poet's  dreams 
Are  in  thy  wreaths  of  smoke  ascending. 

My  cigarette !    Can  I  forget 

How  Kate  and  I,  in  sunny  weather, 
Sat  in  the  shade  the  elm-tree  made 

And  rolled  the  fragrant  weed  together? 
I  at  her  side,  beatified, 

To  hold  and  guide  her  fingers  willing ; 
She  rolling  slow  the  paper's  snow, 

Putting  my  heart  in  with  the  filling. 

My  cigarette  !    I  see  her  yet, 

The  white  smoke  from  her  red  lips  curling 
Her  dreaming  eyes,  her  soft  replies, 

Her  gentle  sighs,  her  laughter  purling  i 
Ah,  dainty  roll,  whose  parting  soul 

Ebbs  out  in  many  a  snowy  billow ; 
I,  too,  would  burn,  if  I  could  earn 

Upon  her  lips,  so  soft  a  pillow. 

Ah,  cigarette  !    The  gay  coquette 
Has  long  forgot  the  flame  she  lighted; 


56  POETRY   OF   SMOKE. 

And  you,  as  I,  unthinking  by, 
Alike  are  thrown,  alike  are  slighted. 

The  darkness  gathers  fast  without, 
A  raindrop  on  my  window  plashes ; 

My  cigarette  and  heart  are  out, 
And  naught  is  left  me  but  the  ashes. 

—CHARLES  F.  LUMMP 


THOSE  ASHES. 

UP  to  the  frescoed  ceiling 

The  smoke  of  my  cigarette 
In  a  sinuous  spray  is  reeling, 

Forming  flower  and  minaret. 

What  delicious  landscape  floating 

On  perfumed  wings  I  see  ; 
Pale  swans  I  am  idly  noting, 

And  queens  robed  in  filigree. 

I  see  such  delicious  faces 

As  ne'er  man  saw  before, 
And  my  fancy  fondly  chases 

Sweet  maids  on  a  fairy  shore. 

Now  to  bits  my  air-castle  crashes, 
And  those  pictures  I  see  no  more; 

My  grandmother  yells  :  "  Them  ashes 
Don't  drop  them  on  the  floor  !  " 

— R.  K.  MUNKITTRXCK- 


POETRY   OF   SMOKE.  57 


HOW  IT  ONCE  WAS. 

RIGHT  stout  and  strong  the  worthy  burghers 
stood, 

Or  rather,  sat, 

Drank  beer  in  plenty,  ate  abundant  food  ; 
For  they  to  ancient  customs  still  were  true, 
And  smoked,  and  smoked,  because  they  surely 
knew 

What  they  were  at, 

William  the  Testy  ruled  New  Amsterdam— 

A  tall  man  he — 

Whose  rule  was  meant  by  him  to  be  no  sham, 
But  rather  like  the  stern  parental  style 
That  sways  the  city  now.    He  made  the  while 

A  rough  decree. 

He  ordered   that  the   pipes  should  cease   to 
smoke, 

From  that  day  on. 
The  people  took  the  order  as  a  joke  ; 
They  did  not  think,  who  smoked  from  child- 
hood up, 

That  one  man  such  delight  would  seek  to  stop, 
Even  in  fun. 

But  when  at  last  it  dawned  upon  their  minds 

That  this  was  meant, 

They  closed  their  houses,  shut  their  window* 
blinds. 


58  POETRY   OF   SMOKE. 

Brought  forth  tobacco  from  their  ample  hoard, 
And  to  the  governor's  house  with  one  accord 
The  Burghers  went. 

They  carried  chairs,  and  sat  without  a  word 

Bef  re  his  porch, 
And  smoked,  and  smoked,  and  not  a  sound  was 

heard, 

Till  Kieft  came  forth  to  take  the  morning  air, 
With  speech  that   would  have  burned  them 
then  and  there, 

If  words  could  scorch. 

But  they,  however  savagely  he  spoke, 

Made  no  reply. 

Higher  and  thicker  rose  the  clouds  of  smoke, 
And  Kieft,  perceiving  that  they  would  be  free, 
Tried  not  to  put  in  force  his  harsh  decree  ; 

But  let  it  die. 

— New  York  Sun. 


POETRY   OF   SMOKE.  59 

BEER. 

[By  George  Arnold,  New  Yorb^  1862.} 

HERE, 

With  my  beer, 
I  sit, 

While  golden  moments  flit. 
Alas! 
They  pass 
Unheeded  by » 
And  as  they  fly,  I, 
Being  dry, 
Sit,  idly  sipping  here 
My  beer! 
Oh,  finer  far 
Than  fame  or  riches  are 

The  graceful  smoke  wreaths  of  this  free  cigar. 
Why 
Should  I 

Weep,  wail,  or  sigh  ? 
What  if  Luck  has  passed  me  by? 
What  if  my  hopes  are  dead, 
My  pleasures  fled  ; 
Have  I  not  still 
My  fill 

Of  right  good  cheer- 
Cigars  and  beer? 
Go,  whining  youth. 
Forsooth ! 
Go,  weep  and  wafl. 
Sigh  and  grow  pale, 


60  POETRY   OF   SMOKE. 

Weave  melancholy  rhymes 

On  the  old  times, 

Whose  joys,  like  shadowy  ghosts,  appear: 

But  leave  to  me  my  beer  ! 

Gold  is  dross, 

Love  is  loss, 

So,  if  I  gulp  my  sorrows  down, 

Or  see  them  drown 

In  foamy  draughts  of  old  nut-brown, 

Then  do  I  wear  the  crown, 

Without  the  cross ! 


SIR  WALTER  RALEiorf  f  name  of  worth, 

How  sweet  for  thee  to  know 
King  James,  who  never  smoked  on  earth, 

Is  smoking  down  below. 


ON  A  TOBACCO  JAR. 

THREE  hundred  years  ago  or  soe, 
One  worthy  knight  and  gentlemanne 
Did  bring  me  here,  to  charm  and  chere, 
To  physical  and  mental  manne. 
God  bless  his  soule  who  filled  ye  bowle, 
And  may  our  blessings  find  him  ! 
That  he  not  miss  some  share  of  blisse 
Who  left  soe  much  behind  him. 

—BERNARD  BARKER* 


POETRY   OF   SMOKE.  6l 

'TWAS  OFF  THE  BLUE 
CANARIES. 

'TWAS  off  the  blue  Canary  Isles, 

A  glorious  summer  day, 
I  sat  upon  the  quarter-deck, 

And  whiffed  my  cares  away  ; 
And  as  the  volumed  smoke  arose, 

Like  incense  in  the  air, 
I  breathed  a  sigh  to  think,  in  sooth, 

It  was  my  last  cigar. 


I  leaned  upon  the  quarter  rail, 

Aud  looked  down  in  the  sea  ; 
E'en  there  the  purple  wreath  of  smoke 

Was  curling  gracefully  ; 
Oh  !  what  had  I  at  such  a  time 

To  do  with  wasting  care  ? 
Alas  I  the  trembling  tear  proclaimed 

It  was  my  last  cigar. 


I  watched  the  ashes  as  it  came 

Fast  drawing  to  an  end  ; 
I  watched  it  as  a  friend  would  watch 

Beside  a  dying  friend  ; 
But  still  the  flame  swept  slowly  on ; 

It  vanished  into  air  ; 
I  threw  it  from  me, — spare  the  tale,— 

It  was  my  last  cigar. 


62  POETRY  OF  SMOKE. 

I've  seen  the  land  of  all  I  love 

Fade  in  the  distance  dim  ; 
I've  watched  above  the  blighted  heart. 

Where  once  proud  hope  had  been ; 
But  I've  never  known  a  sorrow 

That  could  with  that  compare, 
When  off  the  blue  Canaries 

I  smoked  my  last  cigar. 

—JOSEPH  WARREN  FABENS. 


IN  WREATHS  OF  SMOKE. 

IN  wreaths  of  smoke,  blown  way  wardwise, 

Faces  of  olden  days  uprise, 
And  in  his  dreamer's  reverie 
They  haunt  the  smoker's  brain,  and  he 

Breathes  for  the  past  regretful  sighs. 

Mem'ries  of  maids,  with  azure  eyes, 
In  dewy  dells,  'neath  June's  soft  skies, 
Faces  that  more  he'll  only  see 
In  wreaths  of  smoke. 

Eheu,  eheu  !  how  fast  time  flies, — 
How  youth-time  passion  droops  and  dies, 
And  all  the  countless  visions  flee  ! 
How  worn  would  all  those  faces  be, 
Were  not  they  swathed  in  soft  disguise 
In  wreaths  of  smoke  ! 

—FRANK  NEWTON  HOLMAN. 


POETRY  OF  SMOKE.  63 


THE  OLD  CLAY  PIPE. 

THERE'S  a  lot  of  solid  comfort 

In  an  old  clay  pipe,  I  find, 
If  you're  kind  of  out  of  humor 

Or  in  trouble  in  your  mind. 
When  you're  feeling  awful  lonesome 

And  don't  know  just  what  to  do, 
There's  a  heap  of  satisfaction 

If  you  smoke  a  pipe  or  two. 

The  ten  thousand  pleasant  memories 

That  are  buried  in  your  soul 
Are  playing  hide  and  seek  with  you 

Around  that  smoking  bowl. 
These  are  mighty  restful  moments  ; 

You're  at  peace  with  all  the  world, 
And  the  panorama  changes 

As  the  thin  blue  smoke  is  curled. 

Now  you  cross  the  bridge  of  sorrows, 

Now  you  enter  pleasant  lands, 
And  before  an  open  doorway 

You  will  linger  to  shake  hands 
With  a  lithe  and  girlish  figure 

That  is  coming  through  the  door  { 
Ah !  you  recognize  the  features : 

You  have  seen  that  face  before. 

Vou  are  at  the  dear  old  homestead 
Where  you  spent  those  happy  years ; 


POETRY   OF   SMOKE. 

You  are  romping  with  the  children ; 

You  are  smiling  through  your  tears ; 
You  have  fought  and  whipped  the  bully— 

You  are  eight  and  he  is  ten. 
Oh  !  how  rapidly  we  travel— 

You  are  now  a  boy  again. 

You  approach  the  open  doorway, 

And  before  the  old  armchair 
You  will  stop  and  kiss  the  grandma, 

You  will  smooth  the  thin  white  hair  j 
You  will  read  the  open  Bible, 

For  the  lamp  is  lit,  you  see. 
It  is  now  your  hour  for  bedtime 

And  you  kneel  at  mother's  knee. 

Still  you  linger  at  the  hearthstone  ; 

You  are  loath  to  leave  the  place  ; 
When  an  apple  cut's  in  progress 

You  must  wait  and  dance  with  Grace. 
What's  the  matter  with  the  music  ? 

Only  this  :  the  pipe  is  brokev 
And  a  thousand  pleasant  fancies 

Vanish  promptly  with  the  smoke. 

—A.  B.  VAN  FLEET. 


KNICKERBOCKER. 

SHADE  of  Herrick,  Muse  of  Locker, 
Help  me  sing  of  Knickerbocker ! 
Boughton,  had  you  bid  me  chant 
Hymns  to  Peter  Stuy  vesant. 


POETRY   OF   SMOKK. 

Had  you  bid  me  sing  of  Wouter, 
He,  the  onion  head,  the  doubter ! 
But  to  rhyme  of  this  one — Mocker! 
Who  shall  rhyme  to  Knickerbocker? 
Nay,  but  where  my  hand  must  fail, 
There  the  more  shall  yours  avail ; 
You  shall  take  your  brush  and  paint 
All  that  ring  of  figures  quaint,— 
All  those  Rip  Van  Winkle  jokers, 
All  those  solid-looking  smokers, 
Pulling  at  their  pipes  of  amber, 
In  the  dark-beamed  Council  Chamber 


Only  art  like  yours  can  touch 
Shapes  so  dignified— and  Dutch  ; 
Only  art  like  yours  can  show 
How  the  pine  logs  gleam  and  glow, 
'Till  the  firelight  laughs  and  passes 
'Twixt  the  tankards  and  the  glasses, 
Touching  with  responsive  graces 
All  those  grave  Batavian  faces, 
Making  bland  and  beatific 
All  that  session  soporific. 


Then  I  come  and  write  beneath : 
Boughton,  he  deserves  the  wreath ; 
He  can  give  us  form  and  hue — 
This  the  Muse  can  never  do  ! 

—AUSTIN  DOBSON, 


66  POETRY   OF   SMOKE. 


ODE  TO  TOBACCO. 

THOU  who,  when  fears  attack, 
Bidst  them  avaunt,  and  black 
Care,  at  the  horseman's  back 

Perching  unseatest ; 
Sweet,  when  the  morn  is  gray  ; 
Sweet,  when  they've  cleared  away 
Lunch,  at  the  close  of  day, 

Possibly  sweetest : 


I  have  a  liking  old 

For  thee,  though  manifold 

Stories,  I  know,  are  told. 

Not  to  thy  credit ; 
How  one  (or  two  at  most) 
Drops  make  a  cat  a  ghost- 
Useless,  except  to  roast- 
Doctors  have  said  it : 


How  they  who  use  fusees 
All  grow  by  slow  degrees 
Brainless  as  chimpanzees. 

Meager  as  lizards, 
Go  mad  and  beat  their  wives J 
Plunge  (after  shocking  lives) 
Razors  and  carving  knives 

Into  their  gizzards : 


POETRY   OF   SMOKE. 

Confound  such  knavish  tricks ! 
Yet  know  I  five  or  six 
Smokers  who  freely  mix 

Still  with  their  neighbors  • 
Jones  (who  I'm  glad  to  say, 
Asked  leave  of  Mrs.  J.) 
Daily  absorbs  a  clay 

After  his  labors': 

Cats  may  have  had  their  goose 
Cooked  by  tobacco  juice  ; 
Still  why  deny  its  use 

Thoughtfully  taken? 
We're  not  as  tabbies  are  : 
Smith,  take  a  fresh  cigar ! 
Jones,  the  tobacco  jar ! 
Here's  to  theet  Bacon  ! 

— C.  s.  CALVERLEY, 


MY  FRIENDLY  PIPE. 

LET  sybarites  still  dream  delights 
While  smoking  cigarettes, 

Whose  opiates  get  in  their  pates, 
Till  waking  brings  regrets  ; 

Oh,  let  them  cloze,  devoid  of  woes 
Of  troubles,  and  of  frets. 

And  let  the  chap  who  loves  to  nap 
V,  ith  his  cigar  in  hand 


68  POETRY   OF   SMOKE. 


Pursue  his  way,  and  live  his  day, 
As  runs  Time's  changing  sand ; 

Let  him  delight,  by  day  and  night, 
In  his  peculiar  brand. 

But  as  for  me,  I  love  to  be 

Provided  with  a  pipe  ; 
A  rare  eld  bowl,  to  warm  my  soul, 

A  meerschaum,  brown  and  ripe — 
Not  good  plug  cut,  no  stump  or  butt, 

Nor  filthy  gutter  snipe. 

My  joys  increase !    It  brings  me  peace, 

As  nothing  else  can  do  ; 
From  all  the  strife  of  daily  life, 

Here  my  relief  is  true. 
I  watch  its  rings  ;  it  purrs  and  sings — 

And,  then,  it's  cheaper,  too  ! 

—Detroit  Tribune. 


CHOOSING  A  WIFE  BY  A  PIPE 
OF  TOBACCO. 

TUBE,  I  love  thee  as  my  life  ; 
By  thee  I  mean  to  choose  a  wife. 
Tube,  thy  color  let  me  find, 
In  her  skin,  and  in  her  mind. 
Let  her  have  a  shape  as  fine  ; 
Let  her  breath  be  sweet  as  ti  ;ne ; 
Let  her,  when  her  lips  I  kiss, 
Burn  like  thee,  to  give  me  bliss  ; 


POETRY   OF   SMOKE.  & 

Let  her  in  some  smoke  or  other. 
All  my  failings  kindly  smother. 
Often  when  my  thoughts  are  low, 
Send  them  where  they  ought  to  go ; 
When  to  study  I  incline, 
Let  her  aid  be  such  as  thine ; 
Such  as  thine  the  charming  power 
In  the  vacant  social  hour. 
Let  her  live  to  give  delight, 
Ever  warm  and  ever  bright  ; 
Let  her  deeds,  whene'er  she  dies, 
Mount  as  incense  to  the  skies. 

— Gentleman's  Magazine. 


A  BACHELOR'S  SOLILOQUYc 

MY  oldest  pipe,  my  dearest  girl, 

Alas !  which  shall  it  be  ? 
For  she  has  said  that  I  must  choose 

Betwixt  herself  and  thee. 

Farewell,  old  pipe  ;  for  many  years 
You've  been  my  closest  friend, 

And  ever  ready  at  my  side 
Thy  solace  sweet  to  lend. 

No  more  from  out  thy  weedy  bowl. 
When  fades  the  twilight's  glow, 

Will  visions  fair  and  sweet  arise 
Or  fragrant  fancies  flow. 

No  more  by  flick'ring  candlelight 
Thy  spirit  I'll  invoke. 


7O  POETRY   OF  SMOKE. 

To  build  my  castle?  in  the  air 
With  wreaths  of  wav'ring  smoke. 

And  so  farewell,  a  long  farewell — 

Until  the  wedding's  o'er, 
And  then  I'll  go  on  smoking  thee, 
Just  as  I  did  before. 

—EDMUND  DAY, 
In  the  Dramatic  Mirror. 


I  LIKE  cigars 
Beneath  the  stars, 

Upon  the  waters  blue. 
To  laugh  and  float 
While  rocks  the  boat 

Upon  the  waves — don't  you  t 

To  rest  the  oar 
And  float  to  shore, — 

While  soft  the  moonbeams  shine,— 
To  laugh  and  joke 
And  idly  smoke, 

I  think  is  quite  divine. 

—ELLA  WHEELER  WILCOX. 


&MOKERS'  STORIES.  >ji 


BISMARCK'S  LAST  CIGAR. 

GRANT  and  Bismarck,  the  one 
the  European,  and  the  other  the 
American  "man  of  blood  and 
iron,"  were  equally  famous  for  their 
devotion  to  a  good  cigar.  No  cari- 
caturist who  drew  Grant  without 
a  cigar  in  his  mouth  could  hope  to  rise 
in  his  profession.  Bismarck  once  told 
a  group  of  visitors  the  following  story : 
44  The  value  of  a  good  cigar,"  said  he, 
proceeding  to  light  an  excellent  Havana, 
"is  best  understood  when  it  is  the  last 
you  possess,  and  there  is  no  chance  of 
getting  another.  At  Koniggratz  I  had 
only  one  cigar  left  in  my  pocket,  which  I 
carefully  guarded  daring  the  whole  of  the 
battle,  as  a  miser  guards  his  treasure.  I 
did  not  feel  justified  in  using  it.  I  painted 
in  glowing  colors  in  my  mind  the  happy 
hour  when  I  should  enjoy  it  after  the 
victory.  But  I  had  miscalculated  my 


72  SMOKERS'  STORIES. 

chances.  A  poor  dragoon  lay  helpless, 
with  both  arms  crushed,  murmuring  for 
something  to  refresh  him.  I  felt  in  my 
pockets,  and  found  that?  I  had  only  gold, 
which  would  be  of  no  use  to  him.  But 
stay — I  had  still  my  treasured  cigar !  I 
lighted  it  for  him,  and  placed  it  between 
his  teeth.  You  should  have  seen  the 
poor  fellow's  grateful  smile!  I  never 
enjoyed  a  cigar  so  much  as  that  one 
which  I  did  not  smoke." 


THE  USES  OF  CIGAR  ASH. 

ClGAR  ashes,  mingled  with  cam- 
phorated chalk,  make  an  excellent  tooth- 
powder;  or,  ground  with  poppy-oil,  will 
afford  for  the  use  of  the  painter  a  varied 
series  of  delicate  grays.  Old  Isaac  Ostade 
so  utilized  the  ashes  of  his  pipe,  but  had 
he  been  aware  of  Havanas,  he  would 
have  given  us  pictures  even  more  pearly 
in  tone  than  those  which  he  has  left  for 
the  astonishment  and  delight  of  mankind. 


SMOKERS'  STORIES.  73 

JULES  SANDEAU  ON  THE 
CIGAR. 

THE  cigar  is  one  of  the  greatest 
triumphs  of  the  Old  World  over  the  New. 
It  would  be  curious  to  trace  the  origin  of 
the  cigar,  to  watch  its  gradual  develop- 
ment, and  to  observe  its  rapid  growth  and 
wide  distribution.  We  might  study,  too, 
all  the  transformations  it  has  undergone 
in  passing  from  the  homely  lips  of  the  com- 
monalty to  the  rose-colored  lips  of  our 
dandies.  Indeed,  its  history  would  not 
be  wholly  devoid  of  interest,  for  no  epoch, 
perhaps,  can  show  an  example  of  fortune 
so  rapid  as  that  of  the  cigar.  The  cigar 
is  ubiquitous  ;  it  is  the  indispensable  com- 
plement of  all  idle  and  elegant  life ;  the 
man  who  does  not  smoke  cannot  be  re- 
garded as  perfect.  The  cigar  of  to-day 
has  taken  the  place  of  the  little  romances, 
coffee,  and  verses  of  the  seventeenth  cen- 
tury. I  am  not  talking  of  the  primitive 
cigar,  whose  poisonous  odor  and  acrid 


74  SMOKERS'  STORIES. 

and  repulsive  flavor  reached  one's  mar- 
tyred lips  through  the  tube  of  a  straw. 
Civilization  has  truly  altered  such  early 
simplicity.  Spain,  Turkey,  and  Havana 
have  yielded  up  to  us  the  most  precious 
treasures  of  their  smoke-enwrapt  dream- 
land !  and  our  lips  can  now  filter  the  per- 
fumed vapor  of  odoriferous  leaves  which 
have  crossed  the  sea  at  our  summons. 
Do  not  ask  me  to  describe  the  charms  of 
the  reverie,  or  the  contemplative  ecstasy 
into  which  the  srnoke  of  our  cigar 
plunges  us.  Words  are  powerless  to  ex- 
press or  define  these  "  states  ";  they  are 
vague  and  mysterious,  as  unseizable  as 
the  sweetly  scented  clouds  which  are- 
emitted  from  your  "  Mexico  "  or  your 
"  Panatella."  Only  let  me  tell  you  that 
if  you  have  ever  found  yourself  extended 
upon  a  divan  with  soft  and  downy 
cushions,  on  some  winter's  evening,  be- 
fore a  clear  and  sparkling  fire,  enveloping 
the  globe  of  your  lamp  or  the  white  light 
of  your  wax-candle  with  the  smoke  of  a 


SMOKERS'  STORIES.  75 

well-seasoned  cigar,  letting  your  thoughts 
ascend  as  uncertain  and  vaporous  as  the 
smoke  floating  around  you,  let  me  tell 
you,  I  repeat,  that  if  you  have  never  yet 
enjoyed  the  situation,  you  still  have  to 
be  initiated  into  one  of  the  sweetest  of 
our  terrestrial  joys.  Casanovia,  the  im- 
modest Venetian  who  wrote  his  own 
memoirs,  so  that  no  one  should  be  able 
to  discover  any  eccentricities  he  had  not 
committed,  pretends  that  the  smoker's 
sole  pleasure  consists  in  seeing  the  smoke 
escape  from  his  lips.  I  think,  O 
Venetian  !  that  you  have  touched  a  false 
note  here.  The  smoke  of  the  cigar  pro- 
duces the  same  effect  as  opium,  in  that 
it  leads  to  a  state  of  febrile  exaltation,  a 
perennial  source  of  new  pleasures.  The 
cigar  deadens  sorrow,  distracts  our  en- 
forced inactivity,  renders  idleness  sweet 
and  easy  to  us,  and  peoples  our  solitude 
with  a  thousand  gracious  images.  Soli- 
tude without  friend  or  cigar  is  indeed  in- 
supportable to  those  who  suffer.  .  , 


76  SMOKERS'  STORIES. 

TENNYSON  AS  A  SMOKER. 

THE  Poet  Laureate  was  a  great  smoker. 
He  never,  with  Charles  Lamb,  praised 
"Bacchus'  black  servant,  negro  fine," 
nor  with  Byron  hymned  the  delights  of 
"  sublime  Tobacco  " ;  but  he  dearly  loved 
the  weed  for  all  that.  Poet  and  dweller 
in  the  empyrean  though  he  was,  he  knew 
nothing  of  Mr.  Ruskin's  scorn  for  those 
who  "  pollute  the  pure  air  of  the  morning 
with  cigar  smoke."  But  he  did  not  affect 
the  Havana  in  any  of  its  varied  forms. 
His  joy  was  in  a  pipe  of  genuine  Virginia 
tobacco.  A  brother  poet,  who  spent  a 
week  with  him  at  his  country-seat,  says 
that  Partagas,  Regalias,  and  Cabanas  had 
no  charm  for  him. 

He  preferred  a  pipe,  and  of  all  the  pipes 
in  the  world  the  common  clay  pipe  was 
his  choice.  His  den  was  at  the  top  of 
the  house.  Thither  he  repaired  after 
breakfast,  and  in  the  midst  of  a  sea  of 


SMOKERS'  STORIES.  77 

booKS  on  the  shelves,  tables,  chairs,  and 
floor,  toiled  away  until  he  was  fatigued. 
These  hours  of  labor  were  as  absolutely 
sacred  as  were  Richter's.  No  human 
being,  unless  upon  an  errand  of  life  or 
death,  was  allowed  to  intrude  upon  him 
then  ;  but  when  his  morning's  work  was 
done,  he  was  glad  to  see  his  friends— sent 
for  them,  indeed,  or  announced  by  a  little 
bell  his  readiness  to  receive  them.  As 
soon  as  they  entered,  pipes  were  lighted. 
Of  these  pipes  he  had  a  great  store, 
mostly  presents  from  admirers  and  friends. 
The  visitor  had  his  choice,  be  it  a 
hookah,  narghile,  meerschaum,  or  dhu- 
deen.  Tennyson  was  familiar  with  all 
grades  of  smoking  tobacco,  and  the  guest 
could  select  at  will  Latakia,  Connecticut 
leaf,  Perique,  Lone  Jack,  Michigan,  Killi- 
kinick,  Highlander,  or  any  of  the  English 
brands.  The  poet  himself  followed  the 
good  old  plan  of  his  forefathers,  from 
Raleigh  downward.  At  his  feet  were  a 
box  full  of  white  clay  pipes.  Filling  one  of 


78  SMOKERS'  STORIES. 

these,  he  would  smoke  until  it  was  empty, 
break  it  in  twain,  and  throw  the  fragments 
into  another  box  prepared  for  their  recep- 
tion. Then  he  pulled  another  pipe  from 
its  straw  or  wooden  inclosure,  filled  it, 
lighted  it,  and  destroyed  it  as  before.  He 
would  not  smoke  a  pipe  a  second  time. 
Meanwhile,  high  discourse  went  on,  inter- 
rupted not  seldom  by  the  poet's  reading 
select  passages  from  the  manuscript  which 
was  as  yet  scarcely  dry.  So  the  hours  were 
whiled  delightfully  away  until  it  was  time 
to  stroll  on  the  cliffs  or  dress  for  dinner. 

TOBACCO  IN  NORTH 
AMERICA. 

MR.  FAIRHOLT  gives  the  following 
version  of  the  Indian  tradition  as  to  its 
first  appearance  in  North  America  :  "  A 
Swedish  minister  who  took  occasion  to 
inform  the  chiefs  of  the  Susquehanna 
Indians,  in  a  kind  of  sermon,  of  the  prin- 
cipal historical  facts  on  which  the  Chris- 


SMOKERS'    STORIES.  79 

tian  religion  is  founded,  and  particularly 
the  fall  of  our  first  parents,  was  thus 
answered  by  an  old  Indian  orator:  'What 
you  have  told  us  is  very  good  ;  we  thank 
you  for  coming  so  far  to  tell  us  those 
things  you  have  heard  from  your  mothers  ; 
in  return  we  will  tell  you  what  we  have 
heard  from  ours.  In  the  beginning  we 
had  only  flesh  of  animals  to  eat ;  and  if 
they  failed,  we  starved.  Two  of  our 
hunters  having  killed  a  deer  and  broiled 
a  part  of  it,  saw  a  young  woman  descend 
from  the  clouds,  and  seat  herself  on  a 
hill  hard  by.  Said  one  to  the  other  :  "  It 
is  a  spirit,  perhaps,  that  has  smelt  our 
venison  ;  let  us  offer  some  of  it  to  her." 
They  accordingly  gave  her  the  tongue. 
She  was  pleased  with  its  flavor  and  said  : 
"  Your  kindness  shall  be  rewarded  ;  come 
here  thirteen  moons  hence,  and  you  shall 
find  it."  They  did  so,  and  found  maize 
growing;  where  her  left  hand  had  been, 
kidney  beans;  and  where  she  had  sat 
they  found  tobacco?  " 


8o  SMOKERS'  STORIES. 

We  are  told  that  the  Indians  were 
so  constant  in  their  devotion  to  the  pipe 
that  they  used  it  as  Europeans  use  a 
watch,  and  in  reckoning  the  time  any- 
thing occupied  would  say:  "I  was  one 
pipe  (of  time)  about  it."  When  circum- 
stances have  prevented  him  from  pro- 
curing an  ordinary  pipe,  the  Indian  has 
been  known  to  dig  a  small  hole  in  the 
ground,  light  his  tobacco  in  it,  and  draw 
the  smoke  through  a  reed.  If  they  fall 
short  of  provisions  when  on  a  long  jour- 
ney, they  mix  the  juice  of  tobacco  with 
powdered  shells,  in  the  form  of  little  balls, 
which  they  keep  in  their  mouths,  and  the 
gradual  solution  of  which  serves  to  coun- 
teract the  uneasy  craving  of  the  stomach. 


SMOKERS'  STORIES.  81 

SHAKESPEARE  AND  TOBACCO. 

IT  is  a  curious  fact  that  no  allusion  to 
"  divine  Tobacco,"  as  Spenser  calls  it,  is 
to  be  found  in  the  works  of  Shakespeare, 
though  Ben  Jonson  and  his  contem- 
poraries indulge  in  jests  at  the  expense 
of  the  lately  imported  weed,  which  was 
smoked  under  the  very  noses  of  the 
players  by  the  gilded  youth  of  the  period, 
who  were  wont  to  take  up  their  positions 
upon  the  stage  where  stools  were  placed 
for  them,  ahd  smoke  incessantly  during 
the  whole  performance. 

Shakespeare  being  the  favorite  play- 
wright of  James  I.,  whose  hatred  of  smok- 
ing is  well  known,  it  is  not  surprising  that 
he  failed  to  notice  it  favorably  in  the  days 
of  that  monarch  ;  but  that  the  companion 
of  Raleigh  and  Bacon  at  the  "  Mermaid  " 
should  have  nothing  to  say  upon  the  sub- 
ject is  an  enigma  which  some  future  Shake- 
spearean scholar  may  perhaps  unravel. 


82  SMOKERS'  STORIES. 


WHAT  "TOBACCO"  MEANS. 

I  MUST  beg  leave  to  dissent  from  some- 
body who  has  written  very  unfavorably 
of  smoking  tobacco  as  bad  for  the  lungs, 
etc.  If  he  means  to  say  that  the  frequent 
practice  of  smoking*  and  such  a1  habit  of 
doing  it  as  that  a  man  cannot  be  happy 
without  it,  is  a  prejudicial  thing,  I  agree 
with  him.  Tobacco  smoke  is  a  stimulant, 
and  therefore  the  frequent  and  immoder- 
ate use  of  it  must  tend  to  weaken  the  con- 
stitution in  the  same  way,  though  in  a 
much  smaller  degree,  that  dram-drinking 
or  anything  else  that  excites  the  nervous 
system  does.  But  against  the  moderate 
and  occasional  use  of  it  there  exists  no 
rational  objection.  It  is  a  valuable  article 
in  medicine.  I  have  known  much  good 
from  its  various  cases,  and  have  myself 
been  recovered  by  it,  at  times,  from  a 
languor  which  neither  company  nor  wine 
was  able  to  dissipate. 


SMOKERS'  STORIES.  83 

Although,  therefore,  I  shall  not  decide 
on  the  justness  of  the  etymology,  I  must 
clearly  assent  to  the  truth  of  the  fact 
asserted  by  that  critic  who  found  its 
name  to  be  derived  from  three  Hebrew 
words  which,  if  I  recollect  aright,  were 
70£-Bonus,^r/*-Fumus,  ^4-Ejus,  "  Good 
is  the  smoke  thereof." 

— Gentleman's  Magazine  (1788). 


EMERSON  AND  CARLYLE. 

THE  friendship  formed  by  these  two 
men  at  Craigenputtock  lasted  during 
their  lives.  There  is  an  unpublished 
legend  to  the  effect  that  on  the  one 
evening  passed  at  Craigenputtock  by 
Emerson,  in  1833,  Carlyle  gave  him  a 
pipe,  and,  taking  one  himself,  the  two 
sat  silent  till  midnight,  and  then  parted, 
shaking  hands,  with  congratulations  on 
the  profitable  and  pleasant  evening  they 
had  enjoyed. 


SMOKERS*  STORIES. 


NAPOLEON'S  FIRST  PIPE. 

CONSTANT  relates  the  following  anec- 
dote of  the  great  NAPOLEON,  who  once 
took  a  fancy  to  smoke,  for  the  purpose  of 
trying  a  very  fine  Oriental  pipe  which 
had  been  presented  to  him  by  a  Turkish 
or  Persian  ambassador. 

"  Fire  having  been  brought,  it  only 
remained  to  communicate  it  to  the  tobacco, 
but  that  could  never  be  effected  by  the 
method  which  his  Majesty  adopted.  He 
contented  himself  with  alternately  open- 
ing and  shutting  his  mouth,  without 
attempting  to  draw  in  his  breath.  '  Oh. 
the  devil ! '  cried  he  at  last, '  there  will  be 
no  end  of  this  business.'  I  observed  to 
him  that  he  did  it  half-heartedly,  and 
showed  him  how  he  ought  to  begin.  But 
the  Emperor  always  returned  to  his 
yawning.  Wearied  by  his  vain  efforts,  he 
at  last  desired  me  to  light  the  pipe.  I 
obeyed,  and  gave  it  to  him.  But  scarcely 


SMOKERS'  STORIES.  85 

had  he  drawn  in  a  mouthful  than  the 
smoke,  which  he  knew  not  how  to  expel, 
turned  back  into  his  palate,  penetrated 
into  his  throat,  and  came  out  by  his  nose 
and  blinded  him. 

"As  soon  as  he  recovered  his  breath, 
he  ejaculated,  •  Take  that  away  from  me  ! 
What  abomination !  Oh  !  the  swine ! — 
my  stomach  turns.'  In  fact,  he  felt  him- 
self so  incommoded  for  at  least  an  hour, 
that  he  renounced  forever  the  pleasure  of 
a  habit  which  he  said  was  only  fit  to 
amuse  sluggards." 


MAZZINI'S  SANG-FROID  AS  A 
SMOKER. 

THIS  famous  Italian  exile  was  fore- 
warned that  his  assassination  had  been 
planned  and  that  men  had  been  dis- 
patched to  London  for  the  purpose,  but 
he  made  no  attempt  to  exclude  them  from 
his  house.  One  day  the  conspirators 


86  SMOKERS'  STORIES. 

entered  his  room  and  found  him  listlessly 
smoking.  "  Take  cigars,  gentlemen," 
was  his  instant  invitation.  Chatting  and 
hesitation  on  their  part  followed.  "  But 
you.  do  not  proceed  to  business,  gentle- 
men," said  Mazzini.  "  I  believe  your  in- 
tention is  to  kill  me."  The  astounded 
miscreants  fell  on  their  knees,  and  at 
length  departed  with  the  generous  par- 
don accorded  them. 

Mazzini's  last  years  in  England  were 
spent  at  Old  Brompton.  The  modest 
chambers  he  occupied  in  Onslow  Ter- 
race-were strewed  with  papers  and  the 
tables  provided  with  cigars,  that  friends 
who  called  might  select  their  brands  and 
join  him.  He  always  kept  a  cigar  burning 
while  he  wrote.  Canaries  flew  free  about 
the  room.  Lord  Montairy,  in  "  Lothair," 
smoked  cigars  so  mild  and  delicate  in 
flavor  that  his  wife  never  found  him  out. 
Mazzini  surely  must  have  had  some  Mon- 
tairy cigars,  for  his  canaries  did  not  find 
him  out,  or  object  to  him  if  they  did ! 


SMOKERS'  STORIES.  87 


A  SMOKER  IN  VENICE. 

THE  late  Earl  Russell  once  gave  a 
large  party  to  which  the  Poet  Laureate 
(Tennyson)  was  invited,  and  during  the 
evening  his  lordship,  sauntering  up  and 
down  his  magnificent  halls,  happened  to 
recognize  Tennyson. 

"Haul  Mr.  Tennyson,  how  d'ye  do? 
glad  to  see  you.  Hau !  you've  been 
traveling  lately,  I  hear.  How  did  you 
like  Venice,  hau?  Fine  thing  to  be  in 
Venice!  Did  you  visit  the  Bridge  of 
Sighs,  hau?  " 

«•  Yes." 

"  "  And  saw  all  the  pictures,  hau  !  and 
works  of  art  in  that  wonderful  city,  did 
you  not,  hau?" 

"  I  didn't  like  Venice  ! " 

"Hau!  Indeed!  Why  not,  Mr. 
Tennyson  ?  " 

"  They  had  no  good  cigars  there,  my 
lord ;  and  I  left  the  place  in  disgust." 


88  SMOKERS'  STORIES. 

MILTON'S  PIPE. 

MlLTON  was  a  smoker.  When  com- 
posing on  "  Paradise  Lost,"  he  portioned 
out  each  day  in  the  following  manner : 
As  soon  as  he  rose,  a  chapter  of  the 
Bible  was  read  out  to  him  (he  was  then 
blind).  He  afterward  studied  till  twelve, 
taking  an  hour's  exercise  before  he  dined. 
After  dinner,  he  devoted  himself  to 
music,  playing  on  the  organ,  and  he  then 
resumed  his  studies  till  six  o'clock. 
Visitors  were  received  from  six  till  eight, 
at  which  hour  he  supped,  and  having 
had  his  pipe  of  tobacco  and  glass  of 
water,  he  retired  for  the  night. 

PROFESSOR  HUXLEY  ON 
SMOKING. 

AT  a  debate  upon  "  Smoking"  among 
the  members  of  the  British  Association, 
many  speakers  denounced  and  others  ad- 


SMOKERS'  STORIES.  89 

vocated  the  practice.  Professor  Huxley 
said,  "  For  forty  years  of  my  life,  tobacco 
has  been  a  deadly  poison  to  me.  \Loud 
cheers  from  the  anti-tobacconists.]  In 
my  youth,  as  a  medical  student,  I  tried  to 
smoke.  In  vain  !  at  every  fresh  attempt 
my  insidious  foe  stretched  me  prostrate 
on  the  floor.  [Repeated  cheers.]  I  en- 
tered the  navy ;  again  I  tried  to  smoke, 
and  again  met  with  a  defeat.  I  hated 
tobacco.  I  could  almost  have  lent  my 
support  to  any  institution  that  had  for  its 
object  the  putting  of  tobacco-smokers  to 
death.  [  Vociferous  applause]  A  few 
years  ago  I  was  in  Brittany  with  some 
friends.  We  went  to  an  inn.  They 
began  to  smoke.  They  looked  very 
happy,  and  outside  it  was  very  wet  and 
dismal.  I  thought  I  would  try  a  cigar. 
[Murmurs.]  I  did  so.  [Great  expecta- 
tions.] I  smoked  that  cigar — it  was  de- 
licious !  [Groans]  From  that  moment 
I  was  a  changed  man  ;  and  I  now  feel 
that  smoking  in  moderation  is  a  comfort- 


go  SMOKERS'  STORIES. 

able  and  laudable  practice,  and  is  produc- 
tive of  good.  [Dismay  and  confusion  of 
the  anti-tobacconists.  Roars  of  laugh- 
ter from  the  smokers.}  There  is  no 
more  harm  in  a  pipe  than  there  is  in  a  cup 
of  tea.  You  may  poison  yourself  by/ 
drinking  too  much  green  tea,  and  kill 
yourself  by  eating  too  many  beef-steaks. 
For  my  own  part,  I  consider  that  to- 
bacco, in  moderation,  is  a  sweetener  and 
equalizer  of  the  temper."  [Total  rout 
of  the  anti-tobacconists  and  complete 
triumph  of  the  smokers} 


ROBERT  BURNS'  SNUFF-BOX. 

ROBERT  BURNS  was  never  happier 
than  when  he  could  "pass  a  winter 
evening  under  some  venerable  roof  and 
smoke  a  pipe  of  tobacco  or  drink  water 
gruel."  He  also  took  it  in  snuff.  Mr. 
Bacon,  who  kept  a  celebrated  posting- 
house  north  of  Dumfries,  was  his  almost 


I 


SMOKERS'  STORIES.  91 

Inseparable  associate.  Many  a  merry 
night  did  they  spend  together  over  their 
cups  of  foaming  ale  or  bowls  of  whisky 
toddy,  and  on  some  of  those  occasions 
Burns  composed  several  of  his  best  con- 
vivial songs.  The  bard  and  the  innkeeper 
became  so  attached  to  each  other  that, 
as  a  token  of  regard,  Burns  gave  Bacon 
his  snuff-box,  which  for  many  years  had 
been  his  pocket  companion. 

The  knowledge  of  this  gift  was  con- 
fined to  a  few  of  their  jovial  brethren. 
But  after  Bacon's  death,  in  1825,  when 
his  household  furniture  was  sold  by 
public  auction,  this  snuff-box  was  offered 
among  other  trifles,  and  someone  in  the 
crowd  at  once  bid  a  shilling  for  it. 
There  was  a  general  exclamation  that  it 
was  not  worth  twopence,  and  the  auc- 
tioneer seemed  about  to  knock  it  down. 
He  first  looked,  however,  at  the  lid,  and 
then  read  in  a  tremendous  voice  the  fol- 
lowing inscription  upon  it :  "  Robert 
Burns,  officer  of  the  Excise."  Scarcely 


92  SMOKERS'  STORIES. 

had  he  uttered  the  words,  says  one  who 
was  present  at  the  sale,  before  shilling 
after  shilling  was  rapidly  and  confusedly 
offered  for  this  relic  of  Scotland's  great 
bard,  the  greatest  anxiety  prevailing; 
while  the  biddings  rose  higher  and 
higher,  till  the  trifle  was  finally  knocked 
down  for  five  pounds.  The  box  was 
made  of  the  tip  of  a  horn,  neatly  turned 
round  at  the  point ;  its  lid  is  plainly 
mounted  with  silver,  on  which  the  in- 
scription is  engraved. 

A  SMOKING  EMPRESS. 

THE  Empress  of  Austria  is,  perhaps, 
the  only  royal  or  imperial  lady  of  the 
present  age  who  may  be  regarded  from  a 
nicotian  point  of  view  with  entire  satis- 
faction. When  at  home  she  is  generally 
very  tired,  and  having  little  taste  for  read- 
ing, lolls  back  in  a  deep,  soft  armchair, 
or  lies  on  a  sofa,  puffing  cigarettes.  She 
has  an  album  by  her,  with  photographs 


SMOKERS'  STORIES.  93 

of  her  horses,  her  favorite  dogs,  her  chil- 
dren, and  her  grandchild.  She  hates 
brilliant  assemblies,  and  thinks  parlia- 
ments contemptible.  Very  capricious 
and  strong-willed  in  carrying  out  her 
whims,  she  can,  in  the  German  fashion, 
put  rank  aside,  and  be  very  charming  to 
those  who  surround  her,  if  such  is  her 
good  pleasure.  Captain  Middleton,  who 
is  her  esquire  in  the  hunting-fields  of 
England  and  Ireland,  has  never  had  a 
harsh  word  from  her  Majesty.  With  the 
circus-girl  Elsie,  who  was  a  year  or  two 
ago  the  idol  of  the  Parisian  boulevardiers, 
her  Majesty  is  almost  motherly.  The  two 
smoke  cigarettes  together,  and  talk  gayly 
on  equestrian  subjects — the  only  subjects, 
indeed,  which  interest  the  Kaiserin. 

AN  INGENIOUS  SMOKER. 

THE  famous  Bishop  Burnet,  like  many 
authors  of  later  days,  was  very  partial  to 
tobacco,  and  always  smoked  while  he  was 


94  SMOKERS'  STORIES. 

writing.  In  order  to  combine  the  two 
operations  with  perfect  comfort  to  himself, 
he  would  bore  a  hole  through  the  broad 
brim  of  his  large  hat,  and  putting  the 
stem  of  his  long  pipe  through  it,  puff  and 
write,  and  write  and  puff,  with  learned 
gravity. 

This  singular  device,  however,  did  not 
originate  with  the  English  divine,  since 
Heine  concludes  some  ponderous  joking 
on  those  who  have  liked  and  those  who 
have  disliked  tobacco  (among  the  latter 
he  himself  being  included),  with  the  re- 
mark that  the  great  Boxhornius  also  Joved 
tobacco,  and  that  "  in  smoking  he  wore  a 
hat  with  a  broad  brim,  in  the  fore  part  of 
which  he  had  a  hole,  through  which  the 
pipe  was  stuck,  that  it  might  not  hinder 
his  studies." 

This  famous  scholar  and  critic,  who 
died  at  Leyclen  in  1653,  was  wont,  with 
the  modesty  of  genuine  erudition,  to 
say: 

"How  many  things  there  are  that  we 


SMOKERS'  STORIES.  95 

do  not  know ! "  Whereupon  someone 
has  remarked  that  there  was  one  thing 
certainly  that  Boxhornius  did  not  know, 
and  that  was  how  to  moderate  himself  in 
the  use  of  tobacco,  inasmuch  as  by  smok- 
ing incessantly  he  shortened  his  life. 


RALEIGH'S  TOBACCO-BOX. 

SIR  WALTER  RALEIGH  was  no  nig- 
gard of  his  tobacco,  if  we  may  judge 
from  the  size  of  his  box.  In  1719  this 
relic  was  preserved  in  the  museum  of 
Mr.  Ralph  Thoresby  of  Leeds.  It  was 
cylindrical  in  form,  about  seven  inches  in 
diameter  and  thirteen  inches  high  ;  the 
outside  was  of  gilt  leather,  and  in  the 
inside  was  a  cavity  for  a  receiver  of  glass 
or  metal,  which  would  hold  about  a 
pound  of  tobacco.  A  kind  of  collar,  con- 
necting the  receiver  with  the  case,  was 
pierced  with  holes  for  pipes. 


SMOKERS'  STORIES. 


SMOKING  IN  1610. 

FROM  the  following  passage  in  Ben 
Jonson's  play,  "The  Alchemist,"  first 
acted  in  1610,  we  gather  some  curious 
particulars  respecting  the  business  of  a 
tobacconist  of  that  period.  It  occurs  in 
the  first  act,  where  Abel  Drugger  is  in- 
troduced to  Subtle  : 

"  This  my  friend  Abel,  an  honest  fellow  ; 
He  lets  me  have  good  tobacco,  and  he  does  not 
Sophisticate  it  with  sack-lees  or  oil, 
Nor  washes  it  in  muscadel  and  grains, 
Nor  buries  it  in  gravel,  underground, 
Wrapped  up  in  greasy  leather,  .  .  . 
But  keeps  it  in  fine  lily  pots  that,  open'd, 
Smell  like  conserve  of  roses,  or  French  beans. 
He  has  his  maple  block,  his  silver  tongs, 
Winchester  pipes,  and  fire  of  juniper  $ 
A  neat,  spruce,  honest  fellow.  .  ." 

The  Virginian  tobacco  was  usually  im- 
ported in  the  leaf,  and  had  to  be  rubbed 
small  for  smoking.  The  Spanish  tobacco 
was  manufactured  into  balls  about  the 
size  of  a  man's  head,  and  was  also  im- 
ported m  the  form  of  what  the  French 


SMOKERS'  STORIES.  97 

term  carottes,  which  were  known  in  Eng- 
land by  an  obscene  name,  hardly  yet 
obsolete  among  sailors.  Not  fifty  years 
ago  a  story  was  current  in  the  West  In- 
dies, of  a  facetious  reply  given  by  a  sailor 
to  his  captain's  wife,  who,  happening  to 
see  him  employed  about  some  tobacco, 
asked  him  what  he  was  going  to  make  of 
it :  "  Penem  volo  fabricart,  domtna ,  sed 
vereor  ne  ex  illo  coleos faciam."  This 
carotte  and  ball  tobacco  was  cut  as  re- 
quired into  small  pieces  on  a  maple  block 
with  a  knife,  and  the  pipe — shorter  and 
straighter  in  the  stem  and  more  upright 
in  the  bowl  than  those  of  our  own  day — 
being  filled,  was  lighted  by  embers  of 
Juniper  wood,  taken  from  a  kind  of 
chafing  dish  by  silver  tongs. 

PIGS  AND  SMOKERS. 

"  BROTHER  G.,"  said  one  clergyman  to 
another,  "  is  it  possible  you  smoke  to- 
bacco ?  Pray,  give  up  the  unseemly  prac- 


98  SMOKERS'  STORIES. 

tice.  It  is  alike  unclerica!  and  uncleanly. 
Tobacco  !  Why,  my  dear  brother,  even 
a  pig  would  not  smoke  so  vile  a  weed  ! " 
Brother  G.  delivered  a  mild  outpouring 
of  tobacco-fumes^nd  then  as  mildly  said, 
"  I  suppose,  Brother  C,  you  don't  smoke  ?  " 
"  No,  indeed ! "  exclaimed  his  friend,  with 
virtuous  horror.  Another  puff  or  two, 
and  then  Brother  G.,  who  prefers  the  so- 
cratic  method  of  argument,  rejoined, 
"  Then,  dear  brother,  which  is  more  like 
the  pig — you  or  I  ?  " 


THE  SOCIAL  PIPE. 

HONEST  men,  with  pipes  or  cigars  in 
their  mouths,  have  great  physical  advan- 
tages in  conversation.  You  may  stop 
talking  if  you  like,  but  the  breaks  of 
silence  never  seem  disagreeable,  being 
filled  up  by  the  puffing  of  the  smoke; 
hence  there  is  no  awkwardness  in  resum- 
ing the  conversation,  no  straining  for 
effect — sentiments  are  delivered  in  a 
grave,  easy  manner.  The  cigar  harmo- 


SMOKERS'  STORIES.  99 

nizes  the  society,  and  soothes  at  once  the 
speaker  and  the  subject  whereon  he  con- 
verses. I  have  no  doubt  that  it  is  from 
the  habit  of  smoking  that  the  Turks  and 
American  Indians  are  such  monstrous 
well-bred  men.  The  pipe  draws  wisdom 
from  the  lips  of  the  philosopher,  and  shuts 
up  the  mouth  of  the  foolish ;  it  generates 
a  style  of  conversation,  contemplative, 
thoughtful,  benevolent,  and  unaffected; 
in  fact,  dear  Bob, — I  must  out  with  it, 
— I  am  an  old  smoker.  At  home,  I  have 
done  it  up  the  chimney  rather  than  not 
do  it  (the  which  I  own  is  a  crime). 

I  vow  and  believe  that  the  cigar  has 
been  one  of  the  greatest  creature-com- 
forts of  my  life — a  kind  companion,  a 
gentle  stimulant,  an  amiable  anodyne,  a 
cementer  of  friendship. 

—THACKERAY. 


100  TOBACCO   FACTS. 


AGES  ATTAINED  BY  GREAT 
SMOKERS. 

INVETERATE  smokers  have  reached 
very  great  ages.  Hobbes,  who  smoked 
twelve  pipes  a  day  at  Chatsworth,  at- 
tained the  age  of  92  ;  Izaak  Walton,  90; 
Dr.  Carr,  78;  all  devoted  lovers  of  the 
pipe ;  and  Dr.  Isaac  Barrow  called  tobacco 
his  "  panpharmacon." 

In  1769,  died  Abraham  Favrot,  a  Swiss 
baker,  aged  104;  to  the  last  he  walked 
firmly,  read  without  spectacles,  and  al- 
ways had  a  pipe  in  his  mouth. 

In  1845,  died  Pheasy  Molly,  of  Buxton, 
Derbyshire,  aged  96  ;  she  was  burned  to 
death,  her  clothes  becoming  ignited  while 
lighting  her  pipe  at  the  fire. 

In  1856,  there  died  at  Wellbury,  North 
Riding  of  Yorkshire,  Jane  Garbutt,  aged 
no;  she  retained  her  faculties  and  en- 
joyed her  pipe  to  the  last,  She  had 
smoked  "  very  nigh  a  hundred  years." 


TOBACCO   FACTS.  IOI 

Wadd,  in  his  Comments  on  Corpulency, 
mentions  an  aged  Effendi,  "  whose  back 
\vas  bent  like  a  bow,  and  who  was  in  the 
habit  of  taking  daily  four  ounces  of  rice, 
thirty  cups  of  coffee,  three  grains  of 
opium,  besides  smoking  sixty  pipes  of 
tobacco."  Mr.  Chatto,  in  his  amusing 
Paper  of  Tobacco,  relates  that  some  time 
ago  there  was  living  at  Hildhausen,  in 
Silesia,  a  certain  Heinrich  Hertz,  aged 
142,  who  had  been  a  tobacco-taker  from 
his  youth  and  still  continued  to  smoke  a 
pipe  or  two  every  day. 

Although  the  lovers  of  smoking  have 
pressed  Old  Parr  into  their  evidence  in 
its  favor,  they  must  yield  to  the  authority 
of  Taylor,  the  Water-Poet,  who  in  his 
Old,  Old,  very  Old  Man ;  or,  the  Age 
and  Life  of  Thomas  Parr,  says : 

"  He  had  but  little  time  to  waste, 
Or  at  the  ale-house,  huff-cap  ale  to  taste  ; 
Nor  did  he  ever  hunt  a  tavern  fox  ; 
Ne'er  knew  a  coach,  tobacco"  etc. 


IO2          SOME   SALESMEN   AND   OTHERS. 

SOME    SALESMEN    AND 
OTHERS. 

THE  typical  traveling  man  knows  hew 
to  wear  good  clothes,  and  will  converse 
upon  any  subject  from  protoplasm  to  the 
rearing  of  children.  He  will  "  josh  "  a 
baby  up  and  down  to  relieve  a  tired 
mother  on  a  long  journey,  and  is  willing 
at  any  time  to  usurp  from  the  landscape 
the  pretty  girl's  attention  to  himself  and 
his  deeds  of  prowess,  from  "delightful 
trips  "  and  "  car  load  lots  "  to  the  "  best 
room  in  the  house." 

It  is  not  his  fault  if  the  pretty  girl 
suffers  from  ennui.  If  she  will  only  give 
him  a  fair  show  he  will  surely  hit  upon 
something  to  make  her  journey  pleasant. 
He  knows  everybody  and  everything 
worth  knowing.  Her  name  may  be 
Smith.  One  of  his  very  best  customers — 
an  "  elegant  gentleman,"  is  named  Smith. 
Or  "  you  remind  me  very  much  of  a 


SOME   SALESMEN   AND   OTHERS.         IO3 

friend  in  New  York."  "  Never  been  to 
New  York  ?  "  "  We  will  have  to  look 
into  your  case." 

And  then  he  draws  a  very  graphic 
picture  "  of  the  only  town  in  the  country." 
She  is  charmed — nay,  fascinated.  Per- 
haps he  invites  her  to  have  a  little  lunch 
on  the  train.  They  dine  en  route,  and  he 
owns  the  car.  How  the  waiter  hustles 
for  him.  What  graceful  table  manners 
he  affects.  What  fascinating  "  noth- 
ings "  he  pours  into  her  ears.  Her  heart 
is  no  longer  in  the  country  town.  It  is 
traveling  at  the  rate  of  forty  miles  an 
hour  and  beating  very  fast.  If  she  were 
a  possible  customer  now  what  a  bill  of 
goods  he  would  sell.  But  alas,  she  is 
only  a  trusting  maiden.  He  knows  it, 
and  regrets  he  has  charmed  her  so.  He 
is  a  gentleman,  as  most  of  his  kind  are. 
Then  he  assumes  the  brotherly  role,  and 
when  her  station  is  reached  her  heart  is 
back  again  in  the  country  town.  She  has 
a  pleasant  memory  to  feed  on  for  some 


104        SOME  SALESMEN   AND  OTHERS. 

time  to  come,  and  he  has  had  the  satis- 
faction of  making  what  might  have  been 
a  tiresome  ride  a  pleasant  time  for  the 
maid  at  least. 

Gallant  and  chivalrous  as  the  "  typical " 
generally  is,  he  is  just  as  accomplished  in 
other  ways.  Versatile  to  his  finger  tips, 
he  is  perfectly  capable  of  running  the 
train  \should  the  conductor  suddenly 
die)  or  holding  up  the  passengers,  for 
that  matter,  if  he  found  he  was 
"broke." 

But  there  is  a  class  of  traveling  men 
who  possess  all  of  the  above  qualities,  and 
some  others. 

They  are  the  unique  creatures  who  are 
known  as  CIGAR  SALESMEN. 

"  And  the  wonder  of  it  is  there  are  no 
two  of  them  alike." 

In  fact,  there  are  so  many  different 
kinds  of  them  that  if  one  hundred  were 
assembled  together  in  one  room  it  would 
be  impossible  to  classify  them  in  bunches 
of  five  as  "  Exhibit  A,"  "  B,"  etc. 


SOME   SALESMEN   AND  OTHERS.         IO5 

There  are  four  distinct  types,  however, 
which  stand  out  prominently  on  the  land- 
scape. They  are  like  a  certain  brand  of 
bicycle — "  you  see  them  everywhere,"  and 
they  don't  have  to  be  labeled.  For  that 
reason  it  is  easier  to  draw  a  pen  picture 
of  them. 

We  will  call  type  No.  i. 

Jimmy  Smirk  to  the  front.  This 
gentleman  is  the  most  beautiful  specimen 
of  the  cigar  salesman  now  in  existence. 
He  was  discovered  about  fifteen  years 
ago — when  he  was  twenty-five  years 
old — sighing  and  looking  at  some  laven- 
der "  pants  "  in  a  tailor's  window.  How 
he  got  where  he  is,  is  too  long  a  story,  but 
he  is  at  present  representing  a  big  cigar 
manufacturer  in  the  West. 

It  is  said  that  he  is  only  ten  hours 
behind  the  latest  London  and  Paris  styles. 
Leading  tailors  of  both  these  places 
always  have  a  copy  of  his  route  before 
them  so  that  if  any  new  style  is  adopted 
he  is  cabled  to  at  once.  Perhaps  this 


106        SOME   SALESMEN  AND   OTHERS. 

may  not  be  strictly  true,  but  it  is  given  as 
a  fact  that  last  winter  he  received  the 
following  cable  from  London  : 

"  Prince  of  Wales'  new  overcoat  is 
without  pockets." 

And  Jimmy  immediately  wired  back  : 
"  Charming  innovation.  I'll  take  the 
same."  And  so  Jimmy  was  seen  once — 
just  once — in  Denver,  Salt  Lake  City, 
San  Francisco,  and  other  points  with  the 
pocketless  overcoat. 

Some  people  thought  it  a  rather  giddy 
coat,  and  began  to  make  inquiries  about 
the  wearer.  When  they  found  he  was  a 
cigar  salesman  their  admiration  was  great. 
Jimmy  got  into  the  papers.  Smokers 
began  to  ask  their  retail  dealer  what 
house  he  represented.  There  were  so 
many  inquiries,  that  out  of  self-protection 
the  retailers  had  to  buy  some  of  Jimmy's 
cigars.  People  wanted  to  know  him. 
They  found  him  a  good  fellow  ^vho  knew 
how  to  wear  clothes  without  being  con- 
scious that  he  was  "  a  man  apart." 


SOME   SALESMEN   AND   OTHERS.        IO7 

"  Clever  dog  !  "  An  advertising  genius 
who  makes  his  luxurious  tastes  produce 
sales  and  profits. 

The  Cosy  Corner  cigar  salesman 
couldn't  do  as  Jimmy  does.  Beware  of 
him.  He  is  as  insidious  as  absinthe. 
What  a  rippling,  bell-like  laugh  he  has, 
and  stories.  It  is  rumored  that  he 
carries  a  bottle  of  stuff  that  when  in- 
jected into  the  system  produces  instan- 
taneous good  nature.  Clothes ;  he'll 
have  none  of  them  that  he  can't  wear  all 
the  time.  Not  even  an  extra  pair  of 
trousers.  He  sells  you  a  bill  of  goods 
when  you're  not  looking.  And  so  easy. 
You  have  had  the  best  dinner  for  many 
a  day,  and  laughter  enough  to  last  a 
month.  "  I  told  that  story  of  yours  to 
fifty  people,  and  they  nearly  died."  In 
the  middle  of  the  second  bottle  the 
"  Cosy  Corner "  produces  cigars.  By 
that  time  you  love  the  world.  You  in- 
sist upon  giving  him  a  big  order.  He 
doesn't  want  to  sell  you  now,  "  but,  if 


108         SOME   SALESMEN   AND   OTHERS. 

you  insist,  I  will  book  it."      That's  hts 
way,  and  you  like  it. 

The  cold-blooded  business  man  doesn't 
care  for  small  bottles.  He  never  drinks, 
and  looks  upon  life  through  crackers-and- 
milk  and  tea-and-toast  spectacles.  He 
is  the  closest  buyer  in  the  business. 
Prices  talk  with  him,  and  nothing  else. 
For  that  reason  our  friend  Charlie 
Hustler  can  do  business  with  him. 
Charlie  travels  for  a  cheap  cigar  concern, 
sells  everybody  he  can,  and  when  you 
turn  around  to  speak  to  him  he  is  on  the 
train  for  the  next  town.  Queer  fellow, 
Charlie.  He  is  the  "  Electric  Spark  "  of 
the  trade.  Nobody  ever  saw  him  sit 
down,  or  to  be  without  a  sample  case. 
If  he  is  to  take  a  nine  o'clock  train,  you 
will  find  him  quoting  prices  at  8.40  to 
some  retailer.  He  carries  his  cards  and 
railroad  ticket  in  his  hat,  makes  out  his 
orders  on  the  train,  and  foots  up  his  sales 
while  waiting  for  the  different  courses  at 
dinner.  You  are  wrapt  in  admiration  for 


SOME   SALESMEN   AND  OTHERS.         IOQ 

him,  but  for  the  real  thing  the  Colonel  is 
the  best.  Not  to  know  the  "  Colonel  "  is 
to  have  missed 

"  A  loyal,  just,  and  upright  gentleman." 

The  above  quotation  is  the  keynote  of 
the  "  Colonel's "  character,  for  if  there 
ever  was  a  courteous,  chivalrous,  and 
picturesque  human  being,  he  is  one.  Of 
such  stuff  as  this  is  the  "  Colonel  "  made. 
Is  it  any  wonder  that  his  success  as  a 
cigar  salesman  has  enabled  him  to  retire 
with  all  his  honors  flush  upon  him. 

Ask  the  "  Colonel  "  to  talk  about  him- 
self and  he  is  silent.  "  Really,  my  dear 
boy,  there's  nothing  interesting  about  me. 
It  is  true  I  have  sold  a  few  cigars  in  my 
day,  but  plenty  of  others  have  done  the 
same."  From  another  source,  however, 
you  learn  that  not  many  others  have  done 
"  the  same.''  You  also  learn  that  the 
"  Colonel  "  is  modest,  and  when  you  ask 
him  about  a  twenty-five  thousand  dollar 


IIO        SOME   SALESMEN   AND   OTHERS. 

sale  he  once  made,  he  does  admit  it  was 
true. 

"  What  was  your  secret  in  selling 
cigars  ?  " 

"  Simply  doing  the  best  I  know  how. 
Telling  the  truth  about  my  goods,  so  that 
the  customer  knew  it  was  the  truth,  and 
letting  the  price  do  the  rest." 

And  there  you  have  the  "Colonel." 
There  was  no  secret  in  his  way  of  doing 
business,  and  since  he  will  not  talk  about 
himself,  let  us  hear  what  he  has  to  say  in 
a  general  way. 

"A  large  dry  goods  merchant  out  in 
Chicago  used  to  say  to  his  traveling 
men :  '  Keep  down  your  expenses. 
Remember  that  a  cigar  goes  a  long  way.' 

"  This  may  or  may  not  be  true  in 
the  dry  goods  business,"  continued  the 
"  Colonel."  "  In  the  cigar  trade  the  giv- 
ing of  a  cigar  cuts  no  figure.  It  could  not 
by  any  possible  means  bring  about  a 
friendly  feeling  between  buyer  and  sales- 
man. If  the  cigar  is  good,  and  your 


SOME    SALESMEN   AND   OTHERS.         Ill 

prices  right,  it  will  assist,  like  a  sample  of 
anything  else,  to  make  the  sale.  Cigars 
given  away  socially  should  go  a  long  way, 
however. 

"  To  me  it  is  a  proof  of  esteem  to  have 
a  friend  give  me  one  of  his  cigars. 
Something  that  he  has  put  time,  trouble, 
and  even  study  in  finding  to  his  taste,  he 
shares  with  me.  Isn't  that  a  graceful 
compliment  to  pay  a  friend  ? 

"  While  on  the  subject,  did  you  ever 
think  that  a  profitable  school  of  instruc- 
tion for  salesmen  could  be  started? 
There's  a  great  field  here  for  some 
ex-traveling  salesmen  to  use  his  past 
experience  profitably. 

"  Take  dealing  with  buyers,  for  in- 
stance ;  what  a  course  of  study  that  calls 
for  alone  !  Of  course  there  can  be  no 
instruction  that  will  teach  a  salesman  how 
to  successfully  approach  every  buyer, 
but  there  are  a  few  principles  and  laws 
which  every  salesman  ought  to  know, 
but  doesn't.  For  example,  I  believe  that 


112        SOME   SALESMEN   AND   OTHERS. 

after  the  salesman  has  announced  the 
name  of  the  firm  he  travels  for,  he  should, 
without  being  officious,  be  sure  that  the 
buyer  knows  his  own  name.  Quite  a 
little  important  point,  and  one  which  is 
frequently  overlooked. 

"  After  a  man  has  been  traveling  for 
some  time,  he  will  find  out  that  buyers 
are  only  human  beings  after  all.  You 
have^tf/  to  be  a  diplomat  to  succeed  as 
a  salesman.  Five  minutes'  talk  with  a 
buyer  ought  to  be  enough.  Then  size 
him  up  and  proceed  cautiously.  How 
often  has  a  good  story  helped  to  sell  a  bill 
of  goods !  How  often  a  word  too  much 
or  too  little  has  killed  a  sale !  How 
often  has  the  knowledge  (discreetly  used) 
of  a  buyer's  '  pet  hobby '  been  the  only 
means  of  making  a  sale ! 

"  To  sum  it  all  up,  to  be  a  successful 
salesman  you've  got  to  be  prepared  to 
take  an  interest  in  everything  on  earth. 
In  other  words,  as  a  newspaper  man  says 
of  his  vocation,  to  be '  newborn  every  day.' 


SOME  SALESMEN  AND  OTHERS.        113 

*  Some  good  writer  will  make  a  hit  one 
of  these  days  with  a  series  of  cigar  char- 
acter sketches,  making  the  cigars  tell  the 
story  of  their  life  and  adventures.  For 
instance,  what  a  story  a  tenement-house 
cigar  could  tell !  The  people  it  has  as- 
sociated with  from  start  to  finish,  and  its 
vicissitudes.  You  can  easily  see  there's 
a  wealth  of  literary  material  here. 

"  I  remember  very  well  the  first  tene- 
ment-house cigars  which  were  put  on  the 
market.  The  salesmen  were  nothing  but 
peddlers.  They  went  out  on  the  road 
with  their  stock  of  cigars,  and,  like  the 
fish  peddlers,  didn't  come  home  until 
they  had  sold  out. 

"Salesmen  for  the  tenement-house 
concerns  were  versatile  characters  in  the 
early  days.  They  had  to  be.  A  friend 
of  mine  who  travels  for  one  of  these 
houses  was  suddenly  wired  to  come 
home  when  he  was  doing  a  good  busi- 
ness. He  couldn't  understand  it  until  he 
arrived  at  the  factory.  He  found  a  red- 


114        SOME   SALESMEN  AND   OTHERS. 

hot  strike  in  progress  and  an  excited 
lot  of  cigarmakers  outside  the  building 
about  to  break  in  the  door  and  attack 
those  working  inside.  Climbing  through 
a  back  window  he  grabbed  a  piece  of 
lead  pipe  and  guarded  the  door  just  as 
the  strikers  were  about  to  force  it  open. 
It  wasn't  exactly  a  '  lead  pipe  cinch  '  for 
him,  but  he  stood  his  ground  until  his 
employers  had  a  chance  to  go  for  the 
police. 

"  When  they  arrived  on  the  scene  his 
work  was  over,  and  he  walked  right  out 
among  the  crowd  of  strikers,  boarded  a. 
train  out  of  town,  and  the  next  clay  was 
selling  cigars  as  if  nothing  naa  nappened. 

"  About  the  worst  cigars  are  made  in 
Pennsylvania  by  the  farmers  and  their 
families  during  the  winter.  The  tobacco 
is  of  course  grown  on  their  own  land, 
and  they  make  a  good  living  by  filling  in 
the  winter  months  making  these  fire- 
brands. They  are  sold  to  all  sorts  of 
strange  people  and  fakirs,  and  are  often 


SOME   SALESMEN  AND   OTHERS.         IIJ 

known  as  '  scheme  cigars ';  that  is,  they 
are  sold  with  clocks,  cheap  watches,  and 
pictures. 

"  A  strong,  muscular  traveling  man 
who  represented  one  of  these  scheme- 
cigar  concerns,  told  me  not  long  ago  that 
he  is  physically  unable  to  smoke  his  own 
samples.  He  wipes  out  a  good  many 
quiet  old  grudges  with  these  cigars  during 
a  year. 

"  Historical  names  are  to  my  mind  by 
far  the  best  to  give  cigars.  They  recall 
so  much  and  linger  with  you  when  other 
names  are  forgotten.  There's  the  flavor 
of  romance  about  them.  Your  favorite 
heroes  are  carried  back  to  your  boyhood 
schooldays  with  pleasant  memories,  and 
in  spite  of  yourself  when  you  go  to  buy  a 
cigar,  some  historical  name  is  on  the  tip 
of  your  tongue. 

"  In  spite  of  the  fact  that  the  cigar 
trade  is  just  as  cold-blooded  as  any  other 
when  it  comes  to  doing  business,  still 
no  one  can  deny  that  in  the  poorest 


Il6        SOME  SALESMEN  AND  OTHERS. 

and  meanest  cigar,  there  is,  or  ought  to 
be,  a  certain  sentiment  which  is  not  as- 
sociated with  any  other  manufactured 
article.  From  the  green  fields  of  tobacco 
to  the  cigar  in  a  box  surrounded  by 
bright  labels  and  ribbons,  it  is  always  a 
picturesque  creation.  There  is  nothing 
that  will  take  its  place  on  this  earth. 
And  since  that  is  so,  let  me  offer  you  one 
of  my  special  brand." 

The  "  Colonel  "  lit  his  cigar  and  the 
writer  joined  him.  After  a  few  puffs,  he 
said,  "  Nothing  else  in  the  world  except  a 
cigar  could  put  an  end  to  my  rambling 
remarks."  In  a  few  minutes  he  was  lost 
in  a  cloud,  and  the  interview  ended. 


PUFFS.  117 


PUFFS. 

ABOUT  four  and  a  quarter  billion 
cigars  were  manufactured  in  this  country 
last  year,  and  the  government  got  the 
"  rake  off  " — over  twelve  million  dollars. 

TOBACCO  in  any  form  is  good  for  the 
teeth.  (Please  don't  dispute  this.)  This 
doesn't  mean  that  it  takes  the  place  of  a 
tooth  brush.  That's  a  different  propor- 
tion altogether,  as  they  say  in  Colorado. 

THE  famous  Vuelta  Abajo  district 
will  not  be  very  much  in  evidence  next 
year  as  far  as  producing  tobacco  is  con- 
cerned. Already  at  this  writing  the  '96 
crop  is  only  one-tenth  of  what  it  usually 
is,  and  the  tobacco  garden  of  Cuba  has 
been  devastated  to  a  condition  of  sadness 
which  nothing  except  war  could  accom- 
plish. 

But  while  this  portion  of  the  island  is 
only  waiting  to  be  permitted  to  breathe  a 


3l8  PUFFS. 

little  new  life,  it  is  still  the  same  soil 
and  climate.  And  nowhere  else  on 
"  God's  green  acres  "  grows  a  plant  equal 
in  fragrance  and  aroma  to  the  tobacco 
raised  in  the  Vuelta  Abajo  ("  The  Lower 
Turn  ")  district.  It  is  the  Sunset  Land 
of  Cuba — the  tail  of  the  island — not  un- 
like the  shape  of  an  alligator.  It  is  in  the 
province  of  Pinar  del  Rio — "  The  Pine 
of  the  River" — about  150  miles  long 
and  40  wide,  the  tobacco  growing  portion 
being  only  one-half  of  the  province  in 
length  and  width. 

It  is  a  diversified  country.  Here  a  sea- 
coast,  there  a  forest,  now  a  series  of 
rocky  hills  skirted  by  a  valley  of  flat 
lands  where  grows  the  beautiful  plant. 

HE  who  smokes  and  lays  away, 
Will  smoke  the  same  another  day. 

MME.  HELENA  MODJESKA,  one  of  the 
most  charming  of  women  and  certainly 
an  actress,  if  there  ever  was  one,  smokes 
cigarettes.  And  there  are  people  who 


PUFFS.  119 

say  that  no  lady  will  ever  smoke  a  cigar- 
ette. According  to  that  no  gentleman 
will  smoke  a  cigar,  much  less  a  pipe. 

And  yet  we  have  smoked  with  some 
very  gentle-men. 

A  cigar  is  a  cigar  for  a'  that. 

MOST  men  of  talent  and  genius  use  or 
have  used  tobacco  in  some  form.  Those 
who  don't,  while  they  are  none  the  less 
great,  are  surely  less  happy.  What  a 
round  of  reveries  and  delightful  musings 
they  have  missed !  Napoleon,  for  in- 
stance, if  he  had  only  learned  to  smoke, 
might  have  made  a  better  record  for  him- 
self, certainly  a  more  humane  one,  and 
his  days  of  St.  Helena  would  have  been 
so  calm,  peaceful,  and  reflective  that  he 
would  have  given  us  a  study  of  the  times 
(had  he  smoked)  that  would  now  be 
among  the  classics  of  literature. 

Look  at  the  "  big  smokers  "  of  to-day, 
and  outside  of  their  greatness  what 
"  good  fellows "  they  are.  Here  are 


130  PUFFS. 

some  of  them — Thomas  A.  Edison,  Sir 
Henry  Irving,  Buffalo  Bill,  Bismarck, 
Prince  of  Wales,  Marion  Crawford, 
Richard  Mansfield,  Colonel  Ingersoll, 
Henry  George,  Henry  Watterson,  James 
Gordon  Bennett,  Frank  Work,  Carl 
Schurz,  Speaker  Reed,  Francis  Wilson, 
De  Wolf  Hopper,  and  lots  of  others. 

A  CRITIC  once  discovered  that  the  great 
difference  between  two  celebrated  French 
painters,  Decamps  and  Horace  Vernet, 
was  mainly  the  effect  of  their  habits  as 
users  of  tobacco.  The  French  Murillo, 
the  Oriental  colorist,  the  sublime 
D6camps,  smoked  a  pipe.  Vernet  toyed 
with  the  cigarette. 

ON  A  BROKEN   PIPE. 

NEGLECTED  now  it  lies,  a  cold  clay  form, 
So  late  with  living  inspirations  warm  ; 
Type  of  all  other  creatures    formed  of 

clay, 
What  more  than  it  for    epitaph    have 

they? 


PUFFS.  121 

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. 

A  GOOD  name  for  a  cigar  is  at  any  time 
worth  one  hundred  dollars  per  letter. 
There  is  no  other  trade  that  uses  or  possi- 
bly can  use  so  many  titles  for  its  wares. 
The  thousands  of  beautiful  names  given 
to  cigars  show  that  cigar  manufacturers 
are  a  very  appreciative  lot  of  people,  and 
are  quite  as  much  (if  not  more)  advanced 
in  the  philosophy  and  poetry  of  life  as  any 
other  class  of  business  men. 

A  glance  at  the  registrations  of  cigar 
names  will  verify  the  above  at  any  time. 
There  is  scarcely  a  name  of  history, 
romance,  and  song  which  could  be  used 
in  good  taste  but  what  is  used  on  the 
cover  of  a  cigar  box.  A  young  man  who 


122  PUFFS. 

thought  he  had  a  "  good  thing  "  recently 
submitted  one  hundred  names  to  the 
Tobacco  Leaf.  He  found  all  but  four 
of  them  had  been  used,  and  he  went  sadly 
away,  leaving  the  names  behind. 

I  OWE  to  smoking,  more  or  less, 
Through  life  the  whole  of  my  success  ; 
With  my  cigar  I'm  sage  and  wise, 
Without,  I'm  dull  as  cloudy  skies. 
When  smoking,  all  my  ideas  soar, 
When  not  they  sink  upon  the  floor. 
The  greatest  men  have  all  been  smokers, 
And  so  were  all  the  greatest  jokers. 
Then  ye  who'd  bid  adieu  to  care 
Come  here  and  smoke  it  into  air. 


J.  DYER  BALL,  ESQ.,  in  his  book 
"  Things  Chinese,"  says  concerning  pipe 
(tobacco)  smoking  in  China  :  "  There  are 
two  kinds  of  pipes  in  use :  the  dry  pipe  and 
the  water  pipe.  The  latter  is  a  copy  of  the 
Indian  hookah  ;  it  consists  of  a  receptacle 


PUFFS.  123 

for  the  water  into  which  a  tube-like 
piece,  about  the  size  of  a  small  finger,  is 
inserted  ;  the  upper  end  of  this  tube  con- 
tains a  small  cavity  into  which  the  tobacco 
is  put.  The  smoke  is  inhaled  through 
the  water  up  the  pipe  part,  which  is  a 
tube  about  a  foot  long  gradually  narrow- 
ing and  bending  over  at  the  mouthpiece. 
These  pipes  are  made  of  an  alloy  of 
copper,  zinc,  nickel,  and  sometimes  a  little 
silver,  and  are  used  by  ladies  and  gentle- 
men. 

"  The  other  pipes  are  often  made  of 
bamboo,  as  far  as  the  stems  are  con- 
cerned, and  vary  in  length  from  a  few 
feet  to  a  few  inches.  The  bowls,  of 
metal,  are  small,  holding  scarcely  more 
than  a  thimbleful  of  tobacco  ;  a  few  whiffs 
exhaust  them,  and,  with  the  gentleman  or 
lady,  a  servant  is  ready  who  steps  up, 
takes  the  pipe,  empties  out  the  ashes, 
refills  it,  sticks  it  into  the  mouth  of  his 
master  or  mistress,  and  lights  it  with  a 
paper  spill." 


124  PUFFS. 

IN  the  Quartier  Latin  of  Paris  the  pipe 
has  ever  been  the  great  consoler  in  the 
bachelor  homes  of  Bohemian  artists,  and 
has  ever  usurped  the  sway  of  woman, 
as  in  the  case  of  the  artist  Gavarni,  who 
on  his  deathbed  is  reported  to  have  said 
to  a  friend :  "  I  leave  you  my  wife  and 
my  pipe ;  take  care  of  my  pipe." 

NATIONAL  CHARACTERISTICS. 

AN  Englishman  and  a  Frenchman 
were  traveling  together  in  a  diligence, 
and  both  smoking.  Monsieur  did  all  in 
his  power  to  draw  his  phlegmatic  fellow- 
passenger  into  conversation,  but  to  no 
purpose.  At  last,  with  a  superabundance 
of  politeness,  he  apologized  for  drawing 
his  attention  to  the  fact  that  the  ash  of 
his  cigar  had  fallen  on  his  waistcoat,  and 
that  a  spark  was  endangering  his  neck- 
erchief. 

The  Englishman,  now  thoroughly 
aroused,  exclaimed :  "  Why  the  devil 


PUFFS.  125 

can't  you  let  me  alone !  Your  coat-tail 
has  been  on  fire  for  the  last  ten  minutes, 
but  I  didn't  bother  you  about  it !  " 

TOBACCO  AND  THE  PLAGUE. 

WHILE  the  Great  Plague  raged  in  Lon- 
don, tobacco  was  recommended  by  the 
faculty  and  generally  taken  as  a  prevent- 
ive against  infection.  Pepys  records  the 
following  on  the  7th  of  June,  1665  :  "  The 
hottest  day  that  ever  I  felt  in  my  life. 
This  day,  much  against  my  will,  I  did  in 
Drury  Lane  see  two  or  three  houses 
marked  with  a  red  cross  upon  the  doors, 
and  '  Lord,  have  mercy  upon  us  ! '  writ 
there  ;  which  was  a  sad  sight  to  me,  be- 
ing the  first  of  the  kind,  to  my  remem- 
brance, I  ever  saw.  It  put  me  into  an  ill 
conception  of  myself  and  my  smell,  so 
that  I  was  forced  to  buy  some  roll  to- 
bacco to  smell  and  chew,  which  took  away 
the  apprehension." 

Further,  it  was  popularly  reported  that 
no  tobacconists  or  their  households  were 


126 


PUFFS. 


afflicted  by  the  plague.  Physicians  who 
visited  the  sick  took  it  very  freely ;  the 
men  who  went  round  with  the  dead  carts 
had  their  pipes  continually  alight.  This 
gave  tobacco  a  new  popularity,  and  it 
again  took  the  high  medical  position  ac- 
corded to  it  by  the  physicians  of  the 
French  Court. 

IF  a  cigar  kills  you  it's  bad. 

LET  him  now  smoke  who  never  smoked 

before, 
And  he  who  always  smoked  now  smoke 

the  more. 


HOW  TO   KEEP  A  PIPE.  127 

HOW  TO  KEEP  A  PIPE  GOOD- 
NATURED. 

To  begin  with,  every  smoker  should 
have  from  three  to  a  dozen  good  pipes, 
and  besides  he  must  be  a  pipe  smoker. 
By  pipe  smoker  is  meant  not  merely  a 
smoker  of  pipes  nor  one  who  uses  a  pipe 
as  a  makeshift — wishing  all  the  time  he 
had  a  good  cigar — but  one  who  thinks 
this  is  the  only  form  of  smoke  for  his 
fireside,  his  "  easy-chair,"  and  worthy  to 
breathe  its  incense  upon  his  books. 

No  pipe  possesses  any  individuality  in 
a  store,  but  for  such  a  smoker  another 
pipe  means  another  child  added  to  his 
family  of  pipe  children.  Another  child 
that  must  be  washed,  cleaned,  and  gen- 
erally looked  after  if  he  wants  it  to  live 
and  be  sweet-tempered. 

There  are  many  pipe  smokers  and 
would-be  pipe  smokers,  however,  who 
do  not  know  how  to  care  for  their  pipes 


128  HOW  TO  KEEP  A  PIPE. 

— for  those  we  offer  the  following  sug* 
gestions,  which  will  undoubtedly  be  of 
service : 

CONCERNING  BRIAR  PIPES. 

Pipes,  like  people,  must  have  good 
digestions  and  lungs.  When  you  buy 
a  pipe  take  a  good  look  into  the  bowl. 
Examine  its  digestion  by  noticing  if  the 
entrance  from  the  bowl  into  the  stem  is 
perfectly  open.  Take  a  pull  at  the  mouth- 
piece, and  if  the  draught  is  free — not  too 
free — and  there  are  no  cracks  or  flaws 
anywhere  to  be  seen,  you  have  all  the 
elements  of  a  good  pipe. 

Begin  by  handling  a  new  pipe  very 
gingerly.  A  new  pipe  is  like  a  new  baby 
and  must  be  treated  tenderly.  Some 
smokers  carefully  wet  the  inside  of  the 
bowl  before  putting  the  tobacco  in  a  new 
pipe.  This  we  believe  to  be  the  proper 
thing  as  it  removes  any  new  or  sticky 
taste  that  may  have  been  left  in  the  pipe. 

Your  pipe  is  now  ready  for  use.    Some 


HOW   TO    KEEP  A   PIPE.  121) 

smokers,  before  inserting  the  tobacco, 
put  a  piece  of  blotting  paper  in  the  bot- 
tom of  the  bowl.  Do  not  do  this.  It  is 
said  that  blotting  paper  absorbs  the  nico- 
tine. If  that  is  so  there  is  very  little 
taste  to  the  tobacco,  for  it  is  the  nicotine 
that  gives  the  taste  to  the  tobacco,  and 
(except  for  a  very  infinitesimal  part  that 
will  adhere  to  the  pipe  after  each  smoke) 
unless  the  smoker  creates  an  abnormal 
amount  of  saliva,  it  can  do  no  harm. 

Put  in  your  tobacco,  but  don't  fill  it 
quite  to  the  top  of  the  bowl.  Be  careful, 
in  lighting  your  tobacco,  not  to  burn  the 
rim  of  the  bowl.  Smoke  very  leisurely  at 
first,  gently  breaking  in  your  pipe  until 
every  part  of  it  seems  to  be  hardened  to 
the  heat.  Keep  this  up  for  five  or  six 
smokes.  Then  you  and  your  pipe  can 
"  rough  it  "  anywhere  on  earth. 

In  filling  your  pipe  be  careful  not  to 
pack  it  in  too  tight,  so  that  the  bowl 
becomes  choked  up  and  the  tobacco  re- 
fuses to  burn.  Put  your  tobacco  in  fairly 


I3O  HOW  TO   KEEP  A  PIPE. 

loose,  and  after  a  few  puffs  push  it  gently 
down  in  the  bowl  and  keep  doing  this  at 
intervals  until  your  smoke  is  finished. 
This  prevents  the  pipe  from  going  out 
and  creates  moisture  enough  so  that  there 
is  no  danger  of  it  biting  the  tongue. 

After  you  have  finished  smoking  re- 
move the  ashes  by  spooning  them  out 
with  a  little  instrument  that  is  made  for 
that  purpose  and  which  can  be  bought 
for  ten  or  twenty-five  cents.  With  this 
instrument  you  cannot  only  remove  the 
ashes,  but  can  also  remove,  at  the  same 
time,  the  new  crust  which  always  forms 
in  the  bowl  of  the  pipe.  If  any  refuse 
remains  in  the  bowl  of  the  pipe  after  that, 
it  can  be  removed  by  knocking  the  bowl 
in  the  hand. 

The  original  coating  should  never  be 
disturbed,  for  it  is  really  the  fine  flavor — 
the  divine  aroma — which  clings  to  a  pipe 
and  to  every  true  smoker  a  delight. 

This  is  really  all  that  is  necessary  to  do 
with  a  bowl  of  a  pipe ;  no  other  cleaning 


HOW  TO   KEEP  A  PIPE.  13! 

is  required  and  no  chemicals  need  be 
used,  for  if  you  follow  these  directions 
your  pipe  will  always  be  in  good  condi- 
tion. 

It  is  assumed  that  you  are  the  possessor 
of  at  least  three  good  briar  pipes.  This 
being  the  case,  none  of  these  pipes  should 
be  smoked  oftener  than  once  in  three 
days.  A  pipe  smoked  on  Sunday  should 
not  be  touched  until  Wednesday.  The 
next  smoke  day  for  that  pipe  would  be 
Saturday.  With  these  three  pipes,  and 
an  occasional  addition  to  your  pipe  fam- 
ily of  a  new  one  once  in  six  months,  you 
can  defy  the  world,  for  you  have  solved 
one  of  the  greatest  of  comfort  problems. 

In  cleaning,  detach  the  mouthpiece, 
then  take  either  the  little  wire  brush 
used  for  cleaning  pipes,  or  a  chicken 
feather,  or  a  piece  of  string,  or  anything 
else  that  will  serve  the  purpose  without 
being  liable  to  break  off  in  the  pipe. 
Dip  any  of  these  articles  in  a  little 
"  household  ammonia  "  or  alcohol ;  run 


132  THE  BETROTHED. 

it  through  the  mouthpiece  until  it  is  per* 
fectly  clear,  then  attack  the  stem  the 
same  way,  chasing  the  cleaner  into  the 
bottom  of  the  bowl  of  the  pipe,  but  no 
further.  Repeat  this  operation  a  couple 
of  times,  after  which  give  your  pipe  a 
holiday  for  a  few  days,  and  the  next 
time  it  is  smoked  it  will,  somehow,  taste 
better  than  ever  before. 

Don't  use  either  alcohol  or  "house- 
hold ammonia  "  in  the  bowl  of  a  pipe, 
except  what  little  washes  the  bottom  of 
the  bowl  by  the  cleaner. 


THE   BETROTHED. 

"  You  must  choose  between  me  and  your  cigar" 

OPEN  the  old  cigar-box,  get  me  a  Cuba  stout, 
For  things  are  running  crossways  and  Maggie 
and  I  are  out. 

We  have  quarreled  about  Havanas — we  fought 

o'er  a  good  cheroot, 
And  I  know  she  is  exacting,  and  she  says  I  am 

a  brute. 


THE  BETROTHED.  133 

Open  the   old   cigar-box—let   me   consider  a. 

space ; 
In  the  soft  blue  veil  of  the  vapor,  musing  on 

Maggie's  face. 

Maggie  is  pretty  to  look  at,  Maggie's  a  loving 

lass, 
But  the  prettiest   cheeks   must  wrinkle,  the 

truest  of  loves  must  pass. 

There's  peace  in  a  Laranaga,  there's  calm  in  a 

Henry  Clay, 
But  the  best  cigar  in  an  hour  is  finished  and 

thrown  away. 

Thrown  away  for  another  as  perfect  and  ripe 

and  brown, 
But  I  could  not  throw  away  Maggie,  for  fear  o' 

the  talk  of  the  town ! 

Maggie  my  wife  at  fifty,  gray  and  dour  and 

old, 
With  never  another  Maggie  to  purchase  for 

love  or  gold ! 

And  the  light  of  Days  that  have  been,  the  dark 

of  the  Days  that  are, 
And  Love's  touch  stinking  and  stale,  like  the 

butt  of  a  dead  cigar— 

The  butt  of  a  dead  cigar  you  are  bound  to 

keep  in  your  pocket, 
With  never  a  new  one  to  light,  tho'  it's  charred 

and  black  to  the  socket. 


C34  THE  BETROTHED. 

Open     the    old     cigar-box—let    me    consider 

awhile; 
Here  is  a  mild  Manilla,  there  is  a  wifely  smile. 

Which  is  the  better  portion— bondage  bought 

with  a  ring, 
Or  a  harem  of  dusky  beauties,  fifty  tied  in  a 

string  ? 

Counselors    cunning    and    silent — comforters 

true  and  tried, 
And  never  a  one  of  the  fifty  to  sneer  at  a  rival 

bride  ? 

Thought  in  the  early  morning,  solace  in  time 

of  woes, 
Peace  in  the  hush  of  the  twilight,  balm  ere  my 

eyelids  close. 

This  will  the  fifty  give  me,  asking  naught  in 

return. 
With  only  a  Suttee's  passion,  to  do  their  duty 

and  burn. 

This  will  the  fifty  give  me.  When  they  are 
spent  and  dead, 

Five  times  other  fifties  shall  be  my  servants  in- 
stead. 

The  furrows  of  far-off  Java,  the  isles  of  the 

Spanish  Main, 
When  they  hear  my  harem  is  empty,  will  send 

me  my  bride  again. 


THE  BETROTHED.  135 

I  will  take  no  heed  of  their  raiment,  no  food  for 

their  mouth  withal, 
So  long  as  the  gulls  are  nesting,  so  long  as  the 

showers  fall. 

I  will  scent  'em  with  best  vanilla,  with  tea  will 

I  temper  their  hides. 
And  the  Moor  and  the  Mormons  shall  envy, 

who  read  of  the  tale  of  my  brides. 

For  Maggie  has  written  a  letter  to  give  me  my 

choice  between 
The  wee  little  whimpering  Love  and  the  great 

god,  NICK  O'TEEN. 

And  I  have  been  servant  of  Love,  for  barely  a 

twelvemonth  clear. 
But  I  have  been  priest  of  Partagas  a  matter  of 

seven  year ; 

And  the  gloom  of  my  bachelor  days  is  flecked 

with  the  cheery  light 
Of   stumps  that  I  burned  to  Friendship  and 

Pleasure  and  Work  and  Fight. 

And  I  turn  my  eyes  to  the  future  that  Maggie 

and  I  must  prove, 
But  the  only  light  on  the  marshes  is  the  Will- 

o'-the  Wisp  of  Love. 

Will  it  see  me  safe  through  my  journey,  or 
leave  me  bogged  in  the  mire  ? 

Since  a  puff  of  tobacco  can  cloud  it,  shall  I  fol- 
low the  fitful  fire  ? 


136      HOW   TO   COLOR   A  MEERSCHAUM. 

Open  the  old  cigar-box,  let  me  consider  anew — 
Old  friends,  and  who  is  Maggie  that  I  should 
abandon  you? 

A  million  surplus  Maggies  are  willing  to  bear 

the  yoke ; 
And  a  woman  is  only  a  woman,  but  a  good 

cigar  is  a  smoke. 

Light  me  another  Cuba ;   I  hold  to  my  first 

sworn  vows, 
If   Maggie  will   have   no  rival,  I'll  have  no 

Maggie  for  spouse ! 

— RUDYARD  KIPLING. 


HOW  TO  COLOR  A  MEER- 
SCHAUM. 

THE  secret  of  coloring  a  meerschaum 
is  not  to  allow  the  pipe  to  become  too 
hot. 

All  meerschaum  pipes  are  boiled  in 
wax.  This  wax  penetrates  the  pores  and 
serves  to  keep  the  coloring  matter  in  the 
pipe.  This  coloring  matter  is  the  oil  of 
tobacco,  and  meerschaum  being  a  porous 


HOW   TO   COLOR   A   MEERSCHAUM.       137 

clay,  the  oil  sinks  into  it,  but  is  stopped 
by  the  wax,  which  retains  the  coloring 
matter  in  the  pipe. 

The  average  heat  produced  by  smoking 
other  pipes  will  prevent  the  coloring  mat- 
ter from  showing  by  causing  the  wax  to 
run,  and  sink  to  that  portion  of  the  pipe 
where  it  is  cool — at  the  bottom  and  on 
the  stem — which  would  be  the  only  part 
of  the  pipe  to  color. 

There  are  two  ways  to  prevent  this, 
both  of  which  are  used  with  success  in 
coloring  a  meerschaum. 

The  first  way  is  by  the  use  of  a  false  or 
extra  bowl  fitted  into  the  bowl  of  the 
pipe.  With  this  false  bowl  and  ordinary 
precaution  you  can  keep  your  pipe  at  an 
even,  cool  temperature,  so  that  all  the 
coloring  matter  will  be  retained  and  the 
pipe  will  be  colored  completely,  from  the 
top  of  the  bowl  to  the  end  of  the  stem. 

The  other  way  to  color  a  meerschaum 
is  by  using  a  perforated  bottom  placed  in 
the  bottom  of  the  bowl. 


138      HOW  TO    COLOR   A   MEERSCHAUM. 

This  is  a  more  comfortable  way  than 
the  false  bowl,  but  the  smoker  has  got  to 
use  more  care  in  not  overheating  the 
pipe.  This  can  be  prevented  by  taking 
long,  slow  puffs,  in  not  filling  the  pipe  to 
the  top  of  the  bowl,  and  not  filling  again 
immediately  after  smoking. 

Here  are  a  few  other  hints,  however 
which  the  smoker  will  do  well  to  make  a 
note  of : 

Do  not  subject  your  meerschaum  to 
sudden  changes  of  cold  or  heat.  Meer- 
schaum is  susceptible  to  heat  and  cold, 
expanding  with  one  and  contracting  with 
the  other,  and  a  sudden  and  decided 
change  of  temperature  may  cause  it  to 
snap  to  pieces. 

Do  not  handle  the  pipe  with  perspiring 
fingers,  as  the  sweat  is  injurious  to  the 
clay ;  having  acid  in  it  which  gives  the 
surface  a  mottled  appearance  which  can- 
not be  removed. 

Never  cover  the  pipe  with  a  coat  of 
chamois  leather.  Chamois  skin  absorbs 


NEW  CROP  OF  TOBACCO — POETRY.   139 

the  wax,  and,  when  taken  from  the  pipe, 
is  liable  to  leave  blotches. 

Remember  that  the  bowl  of  a  meer- 
schaum should  never  be  touched  by  any- 
thing while  it  is  hot  or  even  warm. 

Clean  a  meerschaum  in  the  same  way 
as  you  do  a  briar  pipe. 


TO  MY   PIPE. 


O,  I  love  the  merry  gurgle  of  my  pipe, 

Brier  pipe  ; 
When  the  flavor  of  the  weed  within  is  ripe 

What  a  lullaby  it  purls. 

As  the  smoke  around  me  curls. 
Mounting  slowly  higher,  higher. 
As  I  dream  before  the  fire, 

With  a  flavor  in  my  mouth, 

Like  a  zephyr  from  the  South, 
And  my  favorite  tobacco 

By  my  side, 

Near  my  side, 

With  the  soothing  necromancy 
Sweetly  linking  fact  to  fancy, 

In  a  golden  memory-chain 

To  the  gurgle,  sweet  refrain, 
Of  my  pipe,  brier  pipe, 
To  the  fancy-breeding  gurgie  of  my  pipe. 


140  NEW  CROP  OF  TOBACCO— POETRY. 

O,  what  subtle  satisfaction  is  my  pip*, 

Brier  pipe ; 

Nothing  mundane  can  impart 
Such  contentment  to  my  heart ; 

She's  my  idol,  she's  my  Queen, 

Is  my  Lady  Nicotine  ; 
When  in  trouble  how  I  yearn 
For  the  incense  which  I  burn 

At  her  shrine. 

How  I  pine 

For  the  fragrance  of  her  breath  ; 
Robbed  of  terrors  e'en  is  death 

By  her  harmless  hypnotism  ; 

Healed  is  every  mortal  schism. 
Foe  and  friend 
Sweetly  blend 

At  the  burning  of  the  brier  ; 

Greed,  cupidity,  desire 
Fade  away  within  the  smoke 
In  the  fragrant,  fleecy  smoke, 

From  my  pipe,  magic  pipe  ; 

From  my  glowing,  peace-bestowing, 
gurgling  pipe. 
— SIGEL  ROUSH  in  New  York  Sun. 


"SHE." 

YES,  Dear, 

I  fear 

I  love  another,  strange  to  say. 

Brunette, 

This  pet, 

And  I  am  with  her  night  and  day. 


NEW  CROP  OF  TOBACCO — POETRY.   14! 

Just  now, 

I  vow, 

I  pressed  her  fondly  to  my  lips ; 

The  kiss 

Was  bliss 

And  thrilled  me  to  my  finger  tips  J 

Don't  pout! 

She's  out 

And  you  are  sweeter,  love,  by  far, 

Altho' 

By  Jo! 

"  She  "  was  an  awful  good  cigar  ! 

—CARL  WERNER. 


THE  DEALER'S  DUPE. 

[  With  apologies  to  Rudyard  Kipling  and  "  The 
Vampire."} 

A  FOOL  there  was,  and  he  spent  a  dime 

(Even  as  you  and  I) 

For  a  weed  that  smelled  like  burning  twine 
(We  called  it  a  sin,  a  shame,  a  crime) ; 
But  the  fool  he  called  it  Havana,  fine 

(Even  as  you  and  I). 

Oh,  the  grudge  we  make  and  the  smudge  we 
make, 

Is  due  to  the  dealer  bland, 

Who  swore  that  the  filler  was  genuine  "  clear  n 
(He  lied  like  sin,  but  he  showed  no  fear), 

So  the  fool  he  bought  the  brand. 


142   NEW  CROP  OF  TOBACCO— POETRY. 

A  fool  there  was,  and  his  coin  he  blew 

(Even  as  you  and  I), 
'Twas  one  cigar  for  the  price  of  two 
(But  that  was  as  much  as  the  darn  fool  knew), 
He  puffed  away  till  his  face  turned  blue — 

(Even  as  you  and  I). 

Oh,  the  fun  he  lost,  and  the  "  mon  "  he  lost, 

And  the  heavy  head  he  had 
Belong  to  the  dealer  who  didn't  care 
(As  long  as  the  fool  didn't  smoke  it  there) — 

Though  he  knew  the  stock  was  bad. 

The  fool  was  fooled  and  he  gave  up  "  ten  " 

(Even  as  you  and  I), 
For  Havana  clear  from  the  land  of  Penn 
(He  knows  it  now,  but  he  didn't  know  then) — 
He  smoked  it,  too — but  he  won't  again 

(Even  as  you  and  I). 

And  it  isn't  the  shame  or  it  isn't  the  blame 

That  stings  like  a  white-hot  brand. 
It's  the  fact  that  the  poor  man  never  knew 
The  weed  |hat  he  smoked  or  the  place  where 

it  grew 

(Kipling  quit  here,  so  I'll  quit  too), 
And  never  could  understand. 

—CARL  WERNER,  in  the  Tobacco  Leaf. 


NEW  CROP  OF  TOBACCO — POETRY.   143 


A  FREE   PUFF." 


Do  you  remember  when  first  we  met  ? 
I  was  turning  twenty— well !  I  don't  forget 
How  I  walked  along 
Humming  a  song, 
Across  the  fields  and  down  the  lane 
By  the  country  road  and  back  again 
To  the  dear  old  farm — three  miles  or  more 
And  brought  you  home  from  the  village  store. 
Summer  was  passing — don't  you  recall 
The  splendid  harvest  we  had  that  fall, 
And  how  when  the  autumn  died — sober  and 

brown — 
We  trudged  down  the  turnpike,  and  on  to  the 

town  ? 

Sweet  black  briarwood  Pipe  of  mine  ! 
If  you  were  human  you'd  be  half  divine, 
For  when  I've  looked  beyond  the  smoke,  into 

your  burning  bowl. 
In  times  of  need, 
You've  been,  indeed, 

The  only  comfort,  sweetest  solace,  of  my  over- 
flowing soul. 
We've  been  together  nearly  thirty  years,  old 

fellow ! 
And  now,  you  must  admit,  we're  both  a  trifle 

mellow. 
We  have  had  our  share  of  joys  and  a  deal  of 

sorrows  ; 
And  while  we're  only  waiting  for  a  few  more 

to-morrows, 


144   NEW  CROP  OF  TOBACCO — POETRY. 

Others  will  come,  and  others  will  go, 
And  Time  will  gather  what  Youth  will  sow. 
But  we  together  will  go  down  the  rough 
Road  to  the  end,  and  to  the  end— puff. 

—ARTHUR  GRAY. 


PLEASE  DO  NOT  REMOVE 
CARDS  OR  SLIPS  FROM  THIS  POCKET 

UNIVERSITY  OF  TORONTO  LIBRARY 


GT       Bain,  John 

3020        Tobacco  in  song  and  story 

B3 

1896