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2. Water M. Grant. 
The title of the book which I wish to bring to your notice this 
evening is— 
‘“MY LADY NICOTINE.” 
Written by Mr. J. M. Barrie. 
The Author’s name is already well marked on the scroll of 
literary fame, but I should like to assure those persons who 
associate Mr. Barrie exclusively with tales of ‘‘ Bonnie Scotland” 
that this is a book which does not require a man to wear kilts in 
order to be able to understand it. 
What then is the book about? To the male portion of the 
community the title will, perhaps, convey a good idea of its 
general subject, but to the female mind there may arise visions 
of one of those refreshing stories of the age of chivalry, where 
gallant knights, on prancing steeds, strove valiantly for the sun- 
shine of ‘My lady’s” smile. In this case, however, it is 
probable that the men will be right in guessing that the word 
‘«‘ Nicotine” gives them the clue, and that the fragrant weed 
plays an important part in the story. 
Tobacco, indeed, may be said to be the raison d’étre of the 
book, and it may perhaps be best described as the “ smoking 
experiences of a bachelor,’’ written by himself after he was 
married, and when he had become a non-smoker. This is not 
an exciting book—there is no plot. It is a book which you can 
take down from your book-shelf at any time, open at random, 
and read an odd chapter with as much enjoyment as if it were a 
complete story. 
About half of the thirty-three chapters in the book are directly 
about smoking and its necessary adjuncts, such as pipes, pouch, 
smoking-table, &c. In the other chapters are described his 
companions: their different characteristics, some of their experi- 
ences, &c., peculiar ideas, aspirations, and imaginations: the 
whole being rounded off by a delightful satire on smoking, from 
the point of view of a man who has been placed in the very 
awkward predicament of having to choose between matrimony 
and smoking, and who has given up smoking. 
The book is written in the first person, and the writer describes 
how he, and his four companions all lived on the same stair in 
one of the old Inns in London, and used to meet in his room at 
night—not for the purpose of conversation primarily—but to 
