'To the American there's nothing so sweet
As to sit in his chair and tilt up his feet,
Enjoy the Cuba, whose flavor just suits,
And gaze at the world through the toes of his boots.'"
This would seem to be a feature of the Dutch according to a late traveler, who says:—
"I like Holland—it is the antidote of France. No one is ever in a hurry here. Life moves on in a slow, majestic stream, a little muddy and stagnant, perhaps, like one of their own canals; but you see no waves, no breakers; not an eddy, nor even a froth bubble, breaks the surface. Even a Dutch child, as he steals along to school, smoking his short pipe, has a mock air of thought about him."
The following epigrams for tobacco jars from "The Tobacco Plant" evince much "taste, wit, and ingenuity."
Fill the bowl, you jolly soul,
And burn all sorrow to a coal.
Henry Clay.
That man is frugal and content indeed,
Who finds food, solace, pleasure in a weed.
The "Weed".
Behold! this vessel hath a moral got,
Tobacco-smokers all must go to pot.
Epigrammatic.
A weed you call me, but you'll own
No rose was e'er more fully blown.
Sic Itur ad Nostra.
Great Jove, Pandora's box with jars did fill
This Jar alone has power those jars to still.
In Nubilus.
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.
Zed.