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and drinking. If he has any bad habit, it is that of being an inveterate snuff-taker; he had learned to smoke on shipboard, but renounced it, in complaisance to his lady. The

Their faithful dog leap'd, lick'd, and following is his inaugural poem at

fawn'd,

his introduction to the club.

Kate felt the frog and loathsome toad
Slow crawling o'er her feet;
And snails and slime, around the walls,
Her trembling fingers meet.

Impatient to be gone, And seem'd to say, with earnest whine, "Come, let me lead you on !"

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Since our Secretary's last communication to you, we have admitted five new members. The first is a gentleman, who, being bred to the sea, was lucky enough to become sailing-master of a West-Indiaman, and in a few years after married the only daughter of a wealthy merchant recently dead; his lady stipulating, that, as she had wealth sufficient to procure happiness, he should leave the sea, and accompany her to Scotland, to the land that gave birth to her father. He replied, in the words of Hammond,

With thee, in lonely deserts I could dwell, Where never human footstep mark'd the ground!

They have been settled here for some years, and are a most amiable couple. She is gay without levity, and modest without prudery. He is fond of his wife, but not uxorious; his talents are rather solid than shining: they are rich without being purse-proud; and their house mansion of hospitality, without ostentation. He has an extensive acquaintance, but only a few intimate friends; and these, like himself, are generally temperate, both in eating

the

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A humbler, yet a nobler theme be mine.

Tobacco, hail!-rich aromatic plant ! Thy virtues I would sing, thy praises chant; The Indian sees thy smoking incense rise, Fit offering for the ruler of the skies; Thou art the pledge of peace; thy curling smoke

Confirms a league no interest can revoke. From orient climes, where lasting summer shines,

Ripening the diamond in Golconda's mines,

To where the sun, in the far distant west, Shines on the Appalachian mountain's breast,

Or, further still, sheds his meridian smiles On California, or the Sandwich Isles ; From northern Oonolaska's deserts hoar, Wide o'er the world thy social charms To southern Patagonia's dreary shore;

are dealt,

Thy virtues own'd, thy cheering influence

felt;

The prince, the clown, the tyrant, and the slave,

The hardy tar that stems the stormy wave, The sage, the savage, and the devotee, All court thy aid, for all delight in thee;

The Eastern Monarch leaves the Haram's The burning incense

charms,

And quits, for thee, his fond Sultana's arms;

With thee, on gilded couch at ease to loll, When Beauty's blush has fail'd to warm his soul,

He scorns Circassia's smile and loveliest bloom,

To breathe the fragrance of thy rich per. fume:

Where sultry suns with languid heat op press,

'Tis thine to breathe a balm for weariness; The twisted hookah throughthe water led, Thy cooling sweets are then more richly shed:

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nose

All these, and other nameless, countless woes,

Conspire to rack and waste the human frame,

Like burning taper in a stream of air, The dazzling blaze may shed a brighter glare;

Unsteady shines the flickering, fitful light, Grows dim-flames-trembles-and expires in night.

But mark the sage, set in his elbowchair,

Stranger alike to levity and care;
From snow-white pipe he leisurely inhales
A fragrance richer than Arabian gales;

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sweetly-scented

balm,
Sheds o'er his face a philosophic calm;
On either hand, perhaps, a social friend,
Of taste congenial, mingling pleasures
blend ;

At intervals, the odoriferous smoke
Is follow'd by the sly, insinuating joke;
Around their heads the curling vapours
roll,

Diffusing bland serenity of soul.
Nor less alone this pleasure is enjoy'd;
While glows the pipe, the mind not un-
employ'd;

'Twas thus great Newton smok'd, and
clear'd his brain,

And whiff'd and thought, and puff'd and thought again;

Regal'd his senses, while his mighty mind, Abstracted, left the wondering world behind.

See him deep plunged in poverty's low vale,

With sickly, sedentary labour pale,
And hear him frankly to his friend de-
clare,

He'll rather stint his scanty, homely fare,
Than be denied the rich salubrious treat,
Restorative, beyond expression sweet!
The veteran warrior, on the tented plain,
Victim of scorching suns and soaking

rain,

As rolls the rattling drum, lights his cigar,
And hastes to wage the sanguinary war;
The houseless wretch, who nightly makes
his bed

crown.

But life's best bliss is oftentimes abus'd, And ills and sorrows follow gifts misused;

When constant, strong excitement fans The gentle breeze that fills the swelling the flame; sail,

Or breathes rich health along the rural vale,

When risen to tempest, ravages the plains, Leaves roofless cottages, and ruin'd swains;

The stream that irrigates the meadow
green,

Will fertilize and beautify the scene;
But to a torrent swollen, it bursts its
bound,

Resistless, scattering desolation round;

Where green woods wave, and stars shine o'er his head,

If full or fasting, strikes the ready steel, That he the soul-inspiring smoke may feel;

His black and stunted pipe, two inches long,

He lights, and sucks with inspiration strong,

Then on his bed of green leaves lays him down,

More careless far than he who wears a

A gentle fragrance will regale the sense; But, when too strong, the odour gives offence;

Or loathsome weeds may be with roses twined,

The odour flies, and leaves the stench behind.

Yon creaking signboard, swinging in And, wounded, laid beside some messmate the gale,

Lures to the Harrow, famous for its ale;
The landlord jolly, and his helpmate fair,
All meet a frank, or specious welcome

With nappy brown, make light-wing'd
hours glide by.

The door is open-loud the bustling din—
Suppose we see what's going on within;
The noisy guests are in the parlour met,
And round a slabbered wainscot-table
set,

Aware that this is daily his repast,
When, light of heart, he climbs the rock-
ing mast;

Amidst the battle's roar, smoke hovering
dun,

He turns his quid, and coolly points his

gun;

feast,

there;

Foul as the opium-eaters of the East! His ready tale, her smile and sparkling Ye sensual slaves to such a habit vile,

eye,

List to the laughter-loving muse and smile:
I know a town-it matters nothing
where,

Tobacco-eaters are abundant there;
Last Winter, when the storm's resistless
force

Laid strict embargo upon cart and horse,
Coals, meal, and salt, had disappear'd and
fled,

gloom,

For smoke, thick, dark, and dense, per-
vades the room;
The candles glimmering through the
misty haze,

Like wintry stars when fogs obscure their
rays:

Loud is their laughter and continuous noise,

slain,

A snatch of pig-tail mitigates his pain.
But landsmen-faugh!-it is a vulgar

With pipes, tobacco, bottles, glasses
crown'd,
Fish-bones and oyster-shells commingling
round;

Coarse tawdry prints hung round the
walls are seen,

With names below, to tell you what they
mean;

The Sailor's Parting, and his glad Return;
Britannia weeping o'er her Nelson's urn;
Fox-hunting, and the famous horse E-

clipse;

merous woes,

Milkmaids, Don Cossacks, birds, and By thirst and famine pinch'd, their senses battle-ships: lose,

But all are veil'd in deep impervious A son of Crispin felt his reason fly, With giddy head, his palate parch'd and dry;

His dinner-board was crown'd with wholesome fare:

But all was loath'd-tobacco was not there! "What boots," he cried, "in want at home to die?

I'll dare the storm, to seek some kind supply!"

While swilling, smoking, still prolong Quick from his stall the frenzied cobler their joys;

pass'd,

And sallied out, regardless of the blast;
Amidst the pathless wreaths he floun-

--

Alike if shag or twist-no kind comes
wrong-
Virginia sweet or Oronooko strong;
Their talk, at best buffoonery, idle, vain,
With songs libidinous, and jests profane.
They pull the bell, impatiently they bawl,
And swearing loud, for cards and liquor

call.

Your glowing cheek, and titillating cough, Declare that you have felt, and seen, and heard enough!

We turn from these, while Fancy calls to
view

Those vulgar feeders, who tobacco chew.
We would not scoff, nor scorn the British
Tar,

His country's bulwark in the time of war,

And, shivering, some went supperless to bed;

But, worse than all-tobacco there was

none.

All was consum'd, each dealer's stock was
done.

Ah! dire distress for the narcotic plant,
When many there could neither work nor

want:

As shipwreck'd sailors, 'midst their nu

dered on,

Till resolution fail'd, and strength was
gone;

His weary limbs in snow encumber'd deep,
He felt a numbness o'er his vitals creep,
He sigh'd, and thought of those now left
behind,

His prattling children, and their mother
kind,

Then cast around a sad, despairing look,
And madly from his greasy pocket took
The seal-skin pouch, which held the trea-
sur'd store,
Which Frenzy whisper'd he should taste
no more!

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Turns Blackstone o'er-reads-raps his
box, and then
Peruses, pauses-snuffs, and reads again:
The starving poet, hunting for a rhyme,
A simile, or metaphor sublime,
Will in his snuff-box inspiration find,
Nicotiana is a muse most kind:

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We named this speaker Sir Walter Raleigh, for reasons which will be obvious to every reader, who re

The wandering beggar, homeless, blind, collects when and by whom tobacco

and old,

When in his face the wind blows keen and cold,

was first introduced into this country.

The round hail gathering in his hoary locks,

Turns round, and seeks for comfort in his box.

As epicures high-seasoned food require, So Macuba, or Strasburg, some admire; Some invalids, when vapours cloud the

brain,

Inhale Cephalic, to relieve their pain;

The next member admitted was an unmarried gentleman, whose sun of life was now declining. He had been educated for the church, was licensed, and had preached occasionally, when he entered as tutor in a gentleman's family, from whom he received a promise of a living whenever it should become vacant, the

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