208 NOTED SMOKERS. 
like a being of a higher sphere. He declined any punch, but 
drank it up as fast as we replenished his glass. He would 
smoke any given quantity of Tobacco, and drink any given 
quantity of punch.’ : ; 
“Parr smoked ostentatiously and vainly, as he did every- 
thing. He used only the finest Tobacco, half-filling his pipe 
with galt. He wrote and read, and smoked and wrote, rising 
early, and talking fustian. He was a sort of miniature 
Brummagem Johnson. Except his preface to Bellendenus, 
you might burn all he has written. His ‘Life of Fox’ is 
beneath contempt. His letters are simply laughable, 
especially his characters of contemporaries. He, however, 
was an amiable and good-natured man, and had sufficient 
humanity to regard dissent as an impediment to his recogni- 
tion of Pytellecthal or moral worth. Parr was an arrogant 
old coxcomb, who abused the respectful kindness he received, 
and took his pipe into drawing-rooms. I pass over the Duke 
of Bridgewater, because he was early crossed in love by a 
most beautiful girl, could not bear the sight of a flower even 
growing, and passed life in a pot-house with a pipe, listening 
to Brindley, whose intellect and dialect must have been alike 
incomprehensible to him. 
“The cigar appeared about 1812; it received the counte- 
nance of the Regent, who had hitherto confined himself to 
macobau snuff, scented with lavender and the tonquin bean. 
Porson smoked many bundles of cheroots, which nabobs 
began to import. After 1815 the continental visits were 
resumed, and the practice of smoking began steadily to 
increase. The German china bowl with globular receiver of 
the essential oil, the absorbent meerschaum, the red Turkish 
bell-shaped clay, the elaborate hookah,—a really elegant 
ornament, and perhaps the most healthful and rational form 
of smoking,—pipes of all shapes, began to fill the shops of 
London. Coleridge, when cured of opium, took to snuff. 
Byron wrote dashingly about ‘sublime Tobacco,’ but I do not 
think he carried the practice to excess. Shelley never 
smoked, nor Wordsworth, nor Keats. Campbell loved a 
pipe. John Gibson Lockhart was seldom without a cigar. 
Sir Walter Scott smoked in his carriage, and regularly after 
dinner, loving both pipes and cigars. Professor Wilson 
smoked steadily, as did Charles Lamb. Carlyle, now some- 
what past seventy, has been a sturdy smoker for years. 
Goethe did not smoke, neither did Shakespeare. I cannot 
recall a single allusion to Tobacco in all his plays; even Sir 
Toby Belch does not add the pipe to his burnt sack. But 
