more, but for the pipe I cannot stay so long."

In 1602 appeared a sweeping tirade entitled, "Work for Chimney
Sweepers, or a Warning against Tobacconists." It abounds with threats
against all who indulge in tobacco. The most singular work, however,
appeared in 1616, bearing the following singular title: "The Smoking
Age, or the Man in the Mist; with the Life and Death of Tobacco.
Dedicated to Captain Whiffe, Captain Pipe, and Captain Snuffe." A
frontispiece is given representing a tobacconist's shop with shelves,
counters, pipes and tobacco; a carved figure of a negro stands upon
the counter, which shows how soon such figures were used by dealers in
pipes and tobacco. The title-page contains the following epigram:

"This some affirme, yet yield I not to that,
'Twill make a fat man lean, a lean man fat;
But this I'm sure (howse'ere it be they meane)
That many whiffes will make a fat man lean."

[Illustration: The Negro Image.]

The following effusion resembles many of the verses of the day on the
fruitful subject:

"Tobacco's an outlandish weed,
Doth in the land strange wonders breed,
It taints the breath, the blood it dries,
It burns the head, it blinds the eyes;
It dries the lungs, scourgeth the lights,
It numbs the soul, it dulls the sprites;
It brings a man into a maze,
And makes him sit for other's gaze;
It makes a man, it mars a purse,
A lean one fat, a fat one worse;
A sound man sick, a sick man sound,
A bound man loose, a loose man bound;
A white man black, a black man white,
A night a day, a day a night;
The wise a fool, the foolish wise,
A sober man in drunkard's guise;
A drunkard with a drought or twain,
A sober man it makes again;
A full man empty, and an empty full,
A gentleman a foolish gull;
It turns the brain like cat in pan,
And makes a Jack a gentleman."

The well-known song of "Tobacco is an Indian Weed," was written most
probably the last half of the Seventeenth Century, Fairholt gives the
best copy we have seen of it. It is taken from the first volume of
"Pills to Purge Melancholy," and reads thus:

"Tobacco's but an Indian weed,
Grows green at morn, cut down at eve,
It shows our decay, we are but clay;
Think of this when you smoke tobacco.

"The pipe, that is so lily white,
Wherein so many take delight,
Is broke with a touch--man's life is such;
Think of this when you smoke tobacco.

"The pipe, that is so