In the olden time it was customary for the English Court to present to an Ambassador on his return home a gold snuff-box, and only in late years has this practice been discontinued. George IV. made a fraudulent display of snuff-taking; he carried an empty box, and pretended to draw from it pinches and apply them to his nose. The great Napoleon could not endure smoking, but filled his waistcoat pocket with snuff, and partook of prodigious quantities. Nelson enjoyed his snuff, and his snuff-box finds a place among his relics at Greenwich. Literary men and dramatists figure in imposing numbers amongst snuff-takers. Dryden enjoyed snuff, and did not object to share the luxury with others. A favourite haunt of his was Will's Coffee-house in Bow Street, Covent Garden, where he was met by the chief wits of the time. In the "London Spy," by Ned Wright, it is related that a parcel of raw, second-rate beaux and wits were conceited if they had but the honour to dip a finger and thumb into Mr. Dryden's snuff-box. Addison, Bolingbroke, Congreve, Swift, and Pope were snuff-takers. Dr. Samuel Johnson carried large supplies in his waistcoat pocket, and his friend Boswell thus praised it:-- "Oh snuff! our fashionable end and aim! Strasburg, Rappee, Dutch, Scotch, Whate'er thy name; Powder celestial! quintescence divine! New joys entrance my soul while thou art mine." Arkbuckle, another Scottish poet, author of many humorous and witty poems, wrote in 1719 as follows:-- "Blest be his shade, may laurels ever bloom, And breathing sweets exhale around his tomb, Whose penetrating nostril taught mankind First how by snuff to rouse the sleeping mind." The following lines are by Robert Leighton, a modern Scotch poet of recognised ability:-- THE SNUFFIE AULD MAN. "By the cosie fireside, or the sun-ends o' gavels, The snuffie auld bodie is sure to be seen; Tap, tappin' his snuff-box, he snifters and sneevils, And smachers the snuff frae his mou' to his een. Since tobacco cam' in, and the snuffin' began, The hasna been seen sic a snuffie auld man. His haurins are dozen'd, his een sair bedizen'd, And red round the lids as the gills o' a fish; His face is a' bladdit, his sark-breest a' smaddit-- And snuffie a picture as ony could wish. He maks a mere merter o' a' thing he does, Wi' snuff frae his fingers an' draps frae his nose. And wow but his nose is a troublesome member-- Day and nicht, there's nae end to its snuffie desire; It's wide as the chimlie, it's red as an ember, And has to be fed like a dry-whinnie fire, It's a troublesome member, and gie's him nae peace, Even sleepin' or eatin' or sayin' the grace.