20 ST NICOTINE 



The shade of Charles Spurgeon, the hero of the Taber- 

 nacle, glides into view, holding to his lips a churchwarden 

 of ample proportions, as if inhaling the herb's perfumed 

 breath with serene enjoyment. A veteran devotee at the 

 shrine of St Nicotine he claimed a foremost place among 

 Victorian smokers. Morning, noon and night, in season, 

 and, as many thought, out of season, he might be found 

 ensconced in some quiet nook, or perched on a wall, 

 diligently like a devout Parsee keeping the sacred fire 

 aglow, and drawing inspiration from the spiral wreaths as 

 they ascended heavenwards. It was to his nostrils as 

 frankincense, leading his thoughts to cerulean quarries in 

 the sky where gems of sparkling wit (or broad humour) were 

 to be gathered for the delectation of multitudes hungering 

 for even his smallest joke, or it might be, an oracular utter- 

 ance on the ' Scarlet Lady.' The Tabernacle towered high 

 in the land in those days, and the churchwarden put forth 

 a lengthening stem. And yet there were limits, outside 

 which even the High Priest of the Tabernacle could not be 

 permitted to roam, or to smoke the idolatrous Indian weed 

 unchallenged. Here he relates how a worthy dame of his 

 fold brought him to book on the subject his everlasting 

 breathing of 'bacco and demanded of him whether the 

 practice was orthodox : could he put his finger on any part 

 of the Bible and say, here is my authority? Whereupon 

 the pastor meekly answered, ' no, madam. But we do read 

 in the Bible of the people passing through the valley of 

 Baca.' ' The valley of Baca ! yes, here it is ! ' From the 

 clouds leisurely blown around her a new light dawned on 

 her troubled conscience ; the gage of battle was withdrawn, 

 and she believed with the implicit faith of a convert in her 

 prophet, priest and king. Others might stray from the 

 beaten track to gain a greener mouthful, ' but for myself,' 



