O my country, could your smoker Boast your “shag,” or even “twist,” Every man were mediocre Save the blest tobacconist! He will point immortal morals, Make all common praises mute, Who shall win our grateful laurels With a national cheeroot! _The St. James’s Gazette._ ―――― ODE TO THE WEED. When happy quite and cosy grown, I feel for meditation ripe, I need companionship, and so I take a pipe. When from the irksome cares of life I pine to be removed far, They vex no longer if I light, A good cigar. I realize what Eden was, (Or some faint semblance of it get) When “she” is with me, and I light A cigarette. Ah me! how much the spirits bless Mankind. I fail when I begin To count thy many gifts to me Sweet “Nicotin.” I wonder oft as I enjoy Thy calm delights (and calm indeed), How they can call thy resting place By name “a weed.” O, may the world in all its ills, Ne’er have this greatest to confess, That is, that it should e’er become Tobaccoless. R. W. ESSEX. ―――― AMOURETTES OF A SMOKER. I flirted first with cigarettes One windy, wild March day; But found their fire, like fair coquettes, Too soon consume away. And then I wooed the mild cheroot, As balmy as the south; Inserting, after much dispute, The big end in my mouth. Awhile I dallied with cigars, Havanna’s ripe brunettes; And wafted incense to the stars, In blue and spiral jets. Shag, bird’s-eye, twist, and negro-head This infant doth eschew; And cavendish he hath “cut” dead: But “_Chacun â son goût_.” One Christmas on an ottoman I sat, and some turkey A fair girl brought me in a can―― Ister, a duck was she! I bought a pipe, with amber tip, Of Moses Abrahams; Alas! one day I let it slip―― I’ll love no more mere-shams! Now, all my youthful amour o’er, I’m wed, and every day With smoking holocausts adore An idol made of clay. GEORGE HILL. ―――― A FAREWELL TO TOBACCO.