This picture would, however, be incomplete, without a few more particulars concerning the individuals who give themselves up to indulgence in the drug. And for this we must again seek the aid of an experienced medical man, who for years lived and laboured in the midst of opium smokers. “Nothing on earth,” he states, “can equal the apparent quiet enjoyment of the opium smoker. As he enters the miserable scene of his future ecstasy, he collects his small change, the labour, or begging, or theft of the day, with which he supplies himself with his quantity of Chandu; then taking the pipe, which is furnished gratis, he reclines on a board covered with a mat, and with his head resting on a wooden or bamboo pillow, he commences filling his pipe. As he entered, his looks were the picture of misery, his eyes were sunk, his gait slouched, his step trembling, and his voice quivering, with a sallow cast of countenance, and a dull unimpressive eye. He who runs might read that he is an opium-smoker, and, diving still deeper below appearances, would declare him an opium sufferer. But now with pipe in hand, opium by his side, and a lamp before him, his eye already glistens, and his features soften in their expression, while he is preparing the coming luxury. At last it is ready, and the pipe being applied to the lamp, there is heard a soughing noise, as with a full and hearty pull, he draws in all that opium and air can give. Slowly is the inspiration relaxed, but not until all the opium that is in the pipe is consumed; then, allowing the vapour, impregnated with the narcotic influence, to remain in his chest until nature compels him to respire, he gently allows it to escape, seeming to grudge the loss of each successive exit, until all is gone, when exhausted and soothed— “‘Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams,’