'Twas because it inclined
To be honest the mind,
And therefore they banished tobacco.

HENRY FIELDING.

Friend of my youth, companion of my later days.
What needs my Muse to sing thy various praise?
In country or in town, on land or sea,
The weed is still delightful company.
In joy or sorrow, grief or racking pain,
We fly to thee for solace once again.
Delicious plant, by all the world consumed,
'Tis pity thou, like man, to ashes too art doom'd.

ANON.

Tobacco, some say, is a potent narcotic,
That rules half the world in a way quite despotic;
So, to punish him well for his wicked and merry tricks,
We'll burn him forthwith, as they used to do heretics.

TO MY CIGAR.

The warmth of thy glow,
Well-lighted cigar,
Makes happy thoughts flow,
And drives sorrow afar.

The stronger the wind blows,
The brighter thou burnest!
The dreariest of life's woes,
Less gloomy thou turnest!

As I feel on my lip
Thy unselfish kiss,
Like thy flame-colored tip,
All is rosy-hued bliss.

No longer does sorrow
Lay weight on my heart;
And all fears of the morrow,
In joy-dreams depart.

Sweet cheerer of sadness!
Life's own happy star!
I greet thee with gladness,
My friendly cigar!

FRIEDRICH MARC.

CIGARS AND BEER.

Here
With my beer
I sit,
While golden moments flit.
Alas!
They pass
Unheeded by;
And, as they fly,
I,
Being dry,
Sit idly sipping here
My beer.

Oh, finer far
Than fame or riches are
The graceful smoke-wreaths of this cigar!
Why
Should I
Weep, wail, or sigh?
What if luck has passed me by?
What if my hopes are dead,
My pleasures fled?
Have I not still
My fill
Of right good cheer,--
Cigars and beer?

Go, whining youth,
Forsooth!
Go, weep and wail,
Sigh and grow pale,
Weave melancholy rhymes
On the old times,
Whose joys like shadowy ghosts appear,--
But leave me to my beer!
Gold is dross,
Love is loss;
So, if I gulp my sorrows down,
Or see them drown
In foamy draughts of old nut-brown,
Then do I wear the crown
Without a cross!

GEORGE ARNOLD.

EFFUSION BY A CIGAR SMOKER.

Warriors! who from the cannon's mouth blow fire,
Your