good intentions
are abandoned. 'Mary,' said an old Cumberland farmer to his
daughter, when she was once asking him to buy her a new
beaver, 'why dost thou always tease me about such things
when I'm quietly smoking my pipe?' 'Because ye are always
best-tempered then, feyther,' was the reply. 'I believe,
lass, thou's reet,' rejoined the farmer; 'for when I was a
lad, I remember that my poor feyther was just the same;
after he had smoked a pipe or twee he wad ha' gi'en his head
away if it had been loose.'"

[Footnote 64: The smoke ascending from the snuff of a
candle could excite a sentimental feeling in the minds
of Wordsworth and Sir George Beaumont, though it seems
to have had no such effect on the mind of
Crabbe.--_Lockhart's Life of Sir Walter Scott._]

The following ode to a Cigar is no doubt familiar to many, yet will
pay a re-perusal:

"And oft, mild friend, to me thou art
A monitor, though still;
Thou speak'st a lesson to my heart
Beyond the preacher's skill.

"Thou'rt like the man of worth, who gives
To goodness every day,
The odor of whose virtues lives
When he has passed away.

"When in the lonely evening hour,
Attended but by thee,
O'er history's varied page I pore,
Man's fate in thine I see.

"Oft, as thy snowy column grows,
Then breaks and falls away,
I trace how mighty realms thus rose,
Thus trembled to decay.

"Awhile, like thee, earth's masters burn,
And smoke and fume around,
And then like thee to ashes turn,
And mingle with the ground.

"Life's but a leaf adroitly rolled,
And time's the wasting breath,
That, late or early, we behold
Gives all to dusty death.

"From beggar's frieze to monarch's robe
One common doom is passed;
Sweet nature's work, the swelling globe,
Must all burn out at last.

"And what is he who smokes thee now?
A little moving heap,
That soon, like thee, to fate must bow,
With thee in dust must sleep.

"But though thy ashes downward go,
Thy essence rolls on high;
Thus, when my body must lie low,
My soul shall cleave the sky."

In Charles Butler's "Story of Count Bismarck's Life," a good anecdote
is told of the Count and his last cigar:--

"'The value of a good cigar,' said Bismarck, as he proceeded
to light an excellent Havan