ust put an enemy to his digestive organs into his
mouth, it is better that that enemy should be the produce of the soil
of which he is a native or denizen, as he derives some benefit from
the consumption, although consumption of another sort may accrue.

I have long and earnestly thought upon the subject of _the weed_, and
have come to the conclusion that, as a necessary of life, it is about
upon a par with opium. Men of the lower classes, I mean labouring
people, who leave off drinking either from religious motives or from
fear, usually take to smoking, and in general their constitutions are
as much injured by the one as by the other. Cigar-smoking is a sort of
devil-may-care imitation of the vulgar by gentlemen, and is no more
requisite for health or amusement than whiskey, dice, or cards. It is
amusing in the extreme to see old fellows aping extreme juvenility,
and professing to smoke before breakfast; and it is ridiculous to see
young gentlemen, very young and very green, cigar in mouth, fancying
it very manly and very independent to imitate a rough, weather-beaten
sailor or soldier, who, not being able to smoke a cigar, sticks to the
pipe. That it stupifies is certain, that it is very vulgar is more
certain, and that it injures health is more certain still. I wonder if
Father Matthew smokes--almost all priests do: they have very little
other solace.

The approach to Chatham is very pretty. Young Thames, for I do not see
why there should not be Young Thames as well as Young England, that
most absurd of all D'Israelisms, looks enchanting in a country where
lakes as flat on their shores as a pancake take the lead, and where
rivers are creeks, and creeks are--nothing.

We crossed a long whitewashed bridge, much out of repair, and saw an
enormous American flag upon a very little American schooner, which had
penetrated thus far into the bowels of the land. Bunting cannot be
dear in the United States, and English Manchester must drive a pretty
good trade in this article.

The town of Chatham is situated on the banks of the Thames and of a
large creek; and, being a Kentish man, I should have felt quite at
home but for three things, videlicet, that enormous American flag; the
name of the creek, which was Mac Gill or Mac something; and a
thermometer pointing to somewhere about 101 deg. Fahrenheit at nine a.m.
Besides this, the town is a wooden one, and has a wooden little fort,
which divides Scotland from Kent, or the ri