What! shall it ever be said that the disaffected to the great public cause, the innovators upon common taste, shall be allowed to progress in their rash undertaking, of seeking to undervalue the importance of those gentle consolers through life, the snuff-box and pipe. Never! while there's a Woodville--nay, even a Dhoodeen,[11] to smoke them to defiance, or a pinch of 'high dried,' to father a witty reply. Much-injured and defrauded of habits--friends of past and present learning and genius--of every land and every clime--sought by rich, as well as poor, and alike soothing to the king as slave, how have ye not been calumniated by the weak and designing! As the poet saith, "Envy doth merit as its shade pursue," and so is it with you. Oh that those standing highest in the popular favour--the 'tried and trusty'--should ever be the objects of attack to the discontented! Most delectable of companions! how many tender reminiscences and recollections are associated with you, from the last pipe of the murdered Raleigh in Newgate, to the dernier pinch of the equally unfortunate Louis XVI, ere they mounted scaffolds, it is hoped, for a better world. If we turn to the imagination, how many endearing recollections connected with our subject throng upon us, even from the once happy days of our boyhood, when in secret we pored over the pages of genius in preference to scholastic lore. Rise up before us, thou soul of philanthropy, and humorous eccentricity, my uncle Toby! with thy faithful and humble serviteur the corporal.[12] Methinks, indeed, we now see ye together in the little cottage parlour, lighted up by the cheerful fire, discoursing of past dangers and campaigns under the soothing influence of the narcotic weed, whose smoke, as it rises in fantastic curls from either pipe, harmonizes together like your kindred souls. And thou, too, poor monk,[13] offspring of the same pervading mind, yet picturing many a sad reality, must thou be forgotten, absorbed as thou art from all the grosser passions of our nature? Our memory paints thee, impelled by the courtesy of thy gentle nature, proffering thine humble box of horn, thy pale and intellectual face, so sensitive, half-shrinking from the fear of 'pride's rebuff:' whilst thou thyself, from the sneers of the affluent, seekest consolation in--a pinch of snuff!