582 The Praises of Tobacco. [JUNE, 



IV. 



We mourn thy death we mourn thy fall ! 

 For summer flowers, and glories all, 

 Must pass away at winter's call, 



Though we lament them. 



V. 



But not so thou, my fragrant Pipe ! 

 For I can have thee in my gripe, 

 When fields are green and fruits are ripe- 

 Thou art always handy ! 



VI. 



When dreary meads are wrapped in snows, 

 Thou warnVst my mouth, and cheer'st my nose ; 

 A lasting sweet a winter rose, 



I deem thee truly! 



VII. 



Be with me every morn and night, 

 My constant solace and delight ; 

 And with thy help I will endite 



Thy ceaseless praises. 



I do not know when I enjoy a pipe of tobacco most whether it be on 

 a winter's evening, by a blazing fire, surrounded by a knot of friends, 

 busily engaged in discussing literary topics, and settling amongst ourselves 

 the merits of this poet or that writer. I think we should not make a bad 

 company for starting a new review. Suppose we call it the " Celestial 

 Review)" for all its dicta would be issued from the clouds. With what 

 pleasure have I, at the beginning of every month, received the new number 

 of the Monthly! With what eagerness do I. accompanied by my pipe, 

 peruse alternately your " Village Sketches/' and the epistles of your 

 " Gentleman in Town !" I think I must be the " Gentleman in the 

 Country," for I regularly smoke over his lucubrations, and live in the 

 country. How should I like to seat myself in the chimney-corner of 

 Hester Hewitt's establishment, and discuss a jug of her home-brewed and 

 a pipe I I have sat in many a hostel as remote and rustic as her's, and 

 watched the departing rays of the setting sun, as it glanced and flickered 

 through the thick foliage of the laburnums and lilacs which surrounded 

 the garden, and piercing through the green curtain of geraniums and 

 myrtles which tilled the window-seat, and half-darkened the casement, 

 illuminated the polished oak tables and sanded floor ; whilst the glaring 

 colours of the pictures stuck against the wall generally descriptive of the 

 Life of Joseph, the Prodigal Son, &c. shone with redoubled brightness. 

 There have I sat, meditating and smoking, until the last rays of the sun 

 and the last puff of my pipe were expended together ; and, as the clouds 

 of evening gathered around without, and the noisy martins, under the eves 

 of the thatched roof, are going to sleep, so do I, in the clouds of my own 

 rising, compose myself to a comfortable nap, and dream of woods and 

 meadows, streams and deep lanes, screened from the heat by high and 

 overreaching dog-roses and flowering hawthorns until I am awakened by 

 the entrance of my landlady to inquire " what the gentleman will have for 

 supper ?" 



Thus have I spent many an evening, cribbed from a life devoted to the 

 study of an arduous profession j and thus do I hope to spend many more. 



