Part 8 (1/2)

Often when my thoughts are _low_, Send them where they ought to go; When to study I incline, Let her aid be such as thine; Such as thine the charming power In the vacant social hour.

Let her live to give delight, Ever _warm_ and ever _bright_; Let her deeds, whene'er she dies, Mount as incense to the skies.

_Gentleman's Magazine_.

MY THREE LOVES.

When Life was all a summer day, And I was under twenty, Three loves were scattered in my way-- And three at once are plenty.

Three hearts, if offered with a grace, One thinks not of refusing; The task in this especial case Was only that of choosing.

I knew not which to make my pet,-- My pipe, cigar, or cigarette.

To cheer my night or glad my day My pipe was ever willing; The meerschaum or the lowly clay Alike repaid the filling.

Grown men delight in blowing clouds, As boys in blowing bubbles, Our cares to puff away in crowds And vanish all our troubles.

My pipe I nearly made my pet, Above cigar or cigarette.

A tiny paper, tightly rolled About some Latakia, Contains within its magic fold A mighty _panacea_.

Some thought of sorrow or of strife At ev'ry whiff will vanish; And all the scenery of life Turn picturesquely Spanish.

But still I could not quite forget Cigar and pipe for cigarette.

To yield an after-dinner puff O'er _demi-ta.s.se_ and brandy, No cigarettes are strong enough, No pipes are ever handy.

However fine may be the feed, It only moves my laughter Unless a dry delicious weed Appears a little after.

A prime cigar I firmly set Above a pipe or cigarette.

But after all I try in vain To fetter my opinion; Since each upon my giddy brain Has boasted a dominion.

Comparisons I'll not provoke, Lest _all_ should be offended.

Let this discussion end in smoke As many more have ended.

And each I'll make a special pet; My pipe, cigar, and cigarette.

HENRY S. LEIGH.

SMOKE IS THE FOOD OF LOVERS.

When Cupid open'd shop, the trade he chose Was just the very one you might suppose.

Love keep a shop?--his trade, oh! quickly name!

A dealer in tobacco--fie, for shame!

No less than true, and set aside all joke, From oldest time he ever dealt in smoke; Than smoke, no other thing he sold, or made; Smoke all the substance of his stock in trade; His capital all smoke, smoke all his store, 'Twas nothing else; but lovers ask no more-- And thousands enter daily at his door!