206 NOTED SMOKERS. 
world. When they do agree, their unanimity is irresistible. 
Prohibition may give zest to enjoyment, and provocation to 
curiosity, but can never overcome the instincts of nature or 
cravings of nervous irritability, and he who rises in rebellion 
against her absolute decree will respect the limits and study’ 
the laws of a recognized and regulated enjoyment. 
‘ “Tet, then, the moralist point out what social duties ‘may 
be imperilled; let the physician apprise us of the disorders 
to be guarded against; and let the lover of elegance see that 
no neglect or slight awaits her. Of abstract arguments we 
have seen the futility, of moral and medical crusades even 
the most patient are weary, and we gladly turn to something 
real in the suffrages of a by-gone great man of acknowledged 
fame—Ben Jonson. Ben Jonson loved the ‘durne weed,’ 
and describes its every accident with the gusto of a con- 
noisseur. Hobbes smoked, after his early dinner, pipes 
innumerable. Milton never went to bed without a pipe and 
a glass of water, which I cannot help associating with his: 
‘ Adam waked, 
So custom’d, for his sleep was ery-light, of pure digestion bred 
And temperate vapors bland!’ 
_ “Sir Isaac Newton was smoking in his garden at Wools- 
thorpe when the apple fell. Addison had a pipe in his 
mouth at all hours, at ‘Buttons.’ Fielding both smoked and 
chewed. About 1740 it became unfashionable, and was ban- 
ished from St. James’ to the country squires and parsons. 
Squire Western, in Zom Jones, arriving in town, sends off 
Parson Supple to Basingstoke, where he had left his Tobacco: 
box! The snuff-box was substituted. Lord Mark Kerr, a 
brave officer who affected the petit maitre (a la Pelham, in 
Lord Lytton’s second novel), invented the invisible hinges, 
and it was this ‘going out of fashion’ that Jonson alluded to 
in 1774. . . 
“We next find Tobacco rearing its head under the auspices 
of Paley and Parr.. Paley had one of the most orderly 
minds ever given to man. A vein of shrewd and humorous’ 
sarcasm, together with an under-current of quiet selfishness, 
made him a very pleasant companion. ‘I cannot afford to 
keep a conscience any more than a carriage,’ was worthy of 
Erasmus, perhaps of Robelais. ‘Our delight was,’ said an 
old Jonsonian to the writer, ‘to get old Paley, on a cold 
winter’s night, to put up his legs, wrap them well up, stir the 
fire, and fill him a long Dutch pipe; he would talk away, sir, 
