The number of cigar manufactories in America is 1,400, and the number of hands employed in them 7,000 and upwards. The total estimated weekly produce of these manufactories is 17½ millions, and the yearly 840 millions. At 7 dollars per 1,000, these would be worth 5 million dollars, and adding 50 per cent. for jobber and retailer, the total cost to consumers would be 7½ million dollars—add to this the sum paid for imported cigars, 6 million dollars, and we have 13½ million dollars, the value of cigars consumed yearly in the United States, without adding profit to the imported cigars; so that, including the amount expended in tobacco for smoking and chewing, and in snuff, the annual cost of the tobacco consumed yearly, is not less than 30 million dollars or £6,000,000. This is but little more than is realized annually in Great Britain by the excise duty alone on the tobacco consumed at home; but it must be remembered, that in America tobacco is free of the duty of three shillings and twopence per pound, and free of charges for an Atlantic passage, so that the tobacco represented by 6 millions there, would be represented here by at least six times that amount. Cloudland costs something to keep up its dignity after all, but beauty is seductive, and so is tobacco. Yes! St. John (Percy, we mean—not “the Divine”), there must be “magic in the cigar.” Then, to the sailor, on the wide and tossing ocean, what consolation is there, save in his old pipe? While smoking his inch and a half of clay, black and polished, his Susan or his Mary becomes manifest before him, he sees her, holds converse with her spirit—in the red glare from the ebony bowl, as he walks the deck at night, or squats on the windlass, are reflected the bright sparkling eyes of his sweetheart. The Irish fruit-woman, the Jarvie without a fare, the policeman on a quiet beat, the soldier at his ease, all bow to the mystic power of tobacco[9]—all acknowledge the infatuations of CLOUDLAND. CHAPTER V. PIPEOLOGY. “It was his constant companion and solace. Was he gay, he smoked—was he sad, he smoked—his pipe was never out of his mouth—it was a part of his physiognomy; without it his best friends would not know him. Take away his pipe—you might as well take away his nose.”——KNICKERBOCKER’S _New York_.