white vapour from the cottage hearth, on a morning that
is sunny and serene;--if to impart that sober sadness over the spirit,
which inclines us to forgive our enemy, that calm philosophy which
reconciles us to the ingratitude and knavery of the world, that heavenly
contemplation whispering to us, as we look around, that "All is good;"--
if these be merits, they are thine, most potent weed.

What a quiet world would this be if every one would smoke! I suspect
that the reason why the fairer sex decry thee is, that thou art the
cause of silence. The ancients knew thee not, or the lips of
Harpocrates would have been closed with a cigar, and his fore-finger
removed from the mouth unto the temple.

Half an hour was passed without any observation from our party, as the
room gradually filled with the volumes of smoke which wreathed and
curled in graceful lines, as they ascended in obedience to the
unchangeable laws of nature.

Hilton's pipe was first exhausted; he shook the ashes on the table. "A
very melancholy business, indeed!" observed he, as he refilled. The
rest nodded a grand assent; the pipe was relighted; and all was silent
as before.

Another pipe is empty.--"Looking at this inventory," said the curate, "I
should imagine the articles to be of no great value. One fur cap, one
round hat, one pair of plush breeches, one ---; they are not worth a
couple of pounds altogether," continued he, stuffing the tobacco into
his pipe, which he relighted, and no more was said. Nicholas was the
third in, or rather out. "It appears to me," observed he;--but what
appeared is lost, as some new idea flitted across his imagination, and
he commenced his second pipe, without further remark.

Some ten minutes after this, Mr Spinney handed the pot of porter to the
curate, and subsequently to the rest of the party. They all took
largely, then puffed away as before.

How long this cabinet council might have continued it is impossible to
say; but Silence, who was in "the chair," was soon afterwards driven
from his post of honour by the most implacable of his enemies, "a
woman's tongue."

"Well, Mr Forster! well, gentlemen! do you mean to poison me? Have you
made smell and dirt enough? How long is this to last, I should like to
know?" cried Mrs Forster, entering the room. "I tell you what, Mr
Forster, you had better hang up a sign at once, and keep an alehouse.
Let the sign be a Fool's Head, like your own. I wonder you are n