The Star Chamber levied a heavy duty, and Charles II. prohibited its cultivation in England. Tobacco was first put under the excise in 1789. It was not at first allowed to be smoked in ale-houses. “There is a curious collection of proclamations, &c.,” says Brand, “in the archives of the Society of Antiquaries of London. In vol. viii. is an ale-house licence, granted by six Kentish justices of the peace, at the bottom of which is the following item, among other directions to the inn-holder:——‘_Item._—You shall not utter, nor willingly suffer to be uttered, drunke, or taken, any tobacco within your house, cellar, or other place thereunto belonging.’” Notwithstanding oppositions, imposts, anathemas, counterblasts, and persecutions, tobacco gradually and rapidly arose in popular esteem. The first house in which it was publicly smoked in Britain was the Pied Bull, at Islington; but this was “alone in its glory” for a very brief period of time. “Is it not a great vanity,” saith Royal James, “that a man cannot heartily welcome his friend now, but straight they must be in hand with tobacco? And he that will refuse to take a pipe of tobacco amongst his fellows is accounted peevish, and no good company; yea, the mistress cannot in a more mannerly kind entertain her servant than by giving him out of her fair hand a pipe of tobacco.” Raleigh smoked in his dungeon in the Tower, while the headsman was grinding his axe. Cromwell loved his pipe, and dictated his despatches to Milton over some burning Trinidado, or sweet-smelling nicotine. Ben Johnson affirmed that tobacco was the most precious weed that the earth ever tendered to the use of man. Dr. Radcliffe recommended snuff to his brethren. Dr. Johnson kept his snuff in his waistcoat pocket; and so did Frederick the Great. Robert Hall smoked in his vestry, and, it would seem, in other places as well, for Gilfillan informs us, that when on a visit to a brother clergyman, he went into the kitchen where a pious servant girl, whom he loved, was working. He lighted his pipe, sat down, and asked her—“Betty, do you love the Lord Jesus Christ?” “I hope I do, sir,” was the reply. He immediately added, “Betty, do you love me?” They were married. And Napoleon took rappee by the handful. And poets wrote, and minstrels sang, in the praise of the “Divine Virginia.” “Thou glorious weed of a glorious land, I would not be freed from thy magical wand— Though a slave to thy fetters, and bound in thy chain, Despairing of freedom, I cannot complain. “Tobacco, I love thee—I bow at thy shrine! The longer I prove thee, the less I repine. The affection I cherish, no time can assuage— Thy joys do not perish, like others, with age.”