I ne’er indulged in sad I――OOO! When smoke was curling round my N――OOO; But I am falling 2 D K, Who could X L, no distant day. I lack not T, or O D V, But B 4 long my want U’ll C: My pouch is M T; so, indeed, I N V men with lots of weed. I C U feel an interest In what your poet would request; There 4 I ask U 2 X QQQ The plaint of my dejected M UUU. I C U R the smoker’s friend; Send me some weed, B 4 my end! This craving I would fain ap PPP, And smoke my pipe “O K” at EEE. Declare I lived and died in peace, If U should hear of my D CCC. Erect an F-I-G of me, And write this in my L-E-G. Here lies a man of Letters, C, Who shunned X S; and yet was E Merry and YYY; a busy B, Who never made an N M E. From _Cope’s Tobacco Plant_. November 1871. ――――:o:―――― THE SMOKER’S ALPHABET. A was an Anti-Tobacconist moke, B was the ’Bacca his neighbours _would_ smoke, C was the Counsel he forced on the world, D was Derision, that at him was hurled. E more Enlightened, would chuckle and say, F “Fill your pipes, and puff nonsense away.” G was a Guardsman, who lit a cigar; H was the health that it never could mar. I was an Irishman witty and gay, J was the Joy that his pipe gave each day. K was the Keel of the vessel that bore L Lots of the “Weed” from Columbia’s shore. M was the Mariner, chewing a quid, N was a Noodle, who vowed “If he did, O “Only ’Orrible qualms would arise.” P was the Punch that he got ’twixt his eyes, Q with the Quid; he turned sickly and wan, R was the “Robert” who made him “move on.” S was the Snuff, pungent, fragrant, and light, T the Torment of Headache cured by it quite. U the plant Universal, that is still V the Victor over full many an ill. W the Wealth, that its growers may hoard, X is a Xebeck, with tobacco on board. Y was a Yankee, who offered cheroots, Z was a Zealot, who said “Fit for brutes!” & the Yankee replied, “Brutes don’t talk, or wear boots.” ANONYMOUS. [Illustration] POEMS IN PRAISE OF TOBACCO. In the following pages the poems are thus arranged――on Tobacco generally, on the Pipe, Cigar and Cigarette, and on Snuff. No poets have been found, however, to sing the praise of chewing Tobacco, a very old form of enjoying the weed. This habit is now principally confined to sailors, soldiers, policemen and others, whose duties compel them to remain in solitude for many hours at a stretch without the solace of a pipe. The following amusing letter shows the importance a sailor attaches to his Quid:―― GRAVESEND, March 24, 1813. Dear Brother Tom;