TOBACCO: 
ITS UPS AND DOWNS IN ENGLAND, 
* 
AND 
HOW TO CULTIVATE ANI) CURE IT 
IN 
9 
THE WEST INDIES. 
I own the soft impeachment/’ said Mrs. Malaprop, and so do 
I, the writer of this Pamphlet. I am an inveterate smoker ; eight , 
ten ? or twelve cigars per diem I disperse in smoke. After ten, 
like the Hon. T. A. Finlay son, I do not count them. I reckon 
that the diurnal pile of ash beside my chair fully equals in size, 
and, perhaps exceeds in value, the earthly remains of the mother 
of Jacob Faithful after the spontaneous combustion which elevated 
her to realms above. Most thoroughly do I coincide with 
Calverley, the scholar and skilful singer, that Tobacco, the cigar, 
the fragrant weed in any form, is 
“ Sweet when the morn is gray, 
Sweet when they clear away 
Lunch, and at close of day, 
Possibly sweetest.” 
What an illimitable — what a thoroughly cosmopolitan idea. 
Calverley must have had a wider appreciation of the precious 
narcotic than is conveyed in those lines of Byron, in which he 
appears to refer to it as the property of a limited class, thus— 
(l Sublime tobacco, which from East to West 
Cheers the Tar's labour, or the Turkman's rest.” 
