But when a friend presents a box, Avoid the scruples and the shocks Of him who laughs and her who mocks, And take a pinch! From _The Sportsman_. August, 1835. ―――― STANZAS TO A LADY _In defence of Smoking._ What taught me first sweet peace to blend With hopes and fears that knew no end, My dearest, truest, fondest friend? My pipe, love! What cheer’d me in my boyhood’s hour, When first I felt Love’s witching power, To bear deceit,――false woman’s dow’r My pipe, love! What still upheld me since the guile, Attendant on false friendship’s smile, And I in hope, deceiv’d the while? My pipe, love! What cheer’d me when misfortunes came, And all had flown me? Still the same My only true and constant flame, My pipe, love! What sooth’d me in a foreign land, And charm’d me with its influence bland, Still whisp’ring comfort, hand in hand? My pipe, love! What charm’d me in the thoughts of past When mem’ry’s gleam my eyes o’ercast, And burns to serve me to the last? My pipe, love! _Nicotiana_, by H. J. Meller. London. E. Wilson, 1832. ―――― TO MY CIGAR. When cares oppress the drooping mind, And fickle friends are most unkind, Who constant still remains behind? My true cigar! Oh! where’s the friend who’d cheerfully, To soothe one pensive hour for me, Resign his latest breath like thee―― My kind cigar? Thy spirit’s gone, poor fragile thing! But still thine ashes, mouldering, To me a valued lesson bring,―― My pale cigar! Like man’s, how soon thy vital spark, Expiring, leaves no other mark, But mouldering ashes, drear and dark, My dead cigar. T. G. J. Bristol. 1844. ―――― TOBACCO. Whene’r I’m out of sorts or sad, Oppress’d with care, and well-nigh mad, What comforts me, and makes me glad? Tobacco! What builds such castles in the air, And paints my prospects bright and fair, And makes me negligent of care? Tobacco! How is it that I’m so resign’d, When’er my wife _must_ speak her mind, And ne’er retaliate in kind? Tobacco! What makes my holidays so sweet, And ev’ry “outing” such a treat That I would fain their joys repeat? Tobacco! Whene’er my brain is dull and dark, And utterly beside the mark, What wakes the latent, slumb’ring spark? Tobacco!