“In some climates the top is generally cut off when the plant has fifteen leaves; but if the tobacco is intended to be a little stronger than usual, this is done when it has only thirteen; and sometimes, when it is designed to be remarkably powerful, eleven or twelve are only allowed to expand. On the contrary, if the planter is desirous of having his crop very mild, he suffers it to put forth eighteen or twenty.

“This operation, called topping, is much better performed by the finger and thumb than with any instrument, because the grasp of the fingers closes the pores of the plant: whereas, when it is done by instruments, the juices are in some degree exhausted. Care must also be taken to rip off the sprouts that will be continually springing up at the junction of the leaves with the stalks. This is termed succouring or suckering the tobacco, and ought to be repeated as often as occasion requires.

“When the plantation comes to a proper growth, it should then be cut down and placed in a barn, or covered house, where it cannot be affected by rain or too much air, thinly scattered over the floor; and if the sun does not appear for several days, they must be allowed to milt in that manner; but in this case the quality of the tobacco is not so good.”

“Cure.—After the plants have been transferred, and hung sometime, pressing or SMOKING, as it is technically termed, they should be taken down, and again laid in a heap and pressed with heavy logs of wood for about a week: but this climate may probably require a longer time. While they remain in this state it will be necessary to introduce your hand frequently into the heap, to discover whether the heat be not too intense; for in large quantities this will sometimes be the case, and considerable damage will be occasioned by it. When they are found to heat too much, that is, when the heat exceeds a moderate glowing warmth, part of the weight, by which they are pressed, must be taken away; and the cause being removed, the effect will cease. This is called the second or last sweating; and when completed, the leaves must be stripped from the stalks for use. Many omit this last sweating; but Mr. Carver thinks it takes away its remaining harshness, and makes it more mellow. The strength of the stalk is also diffused by it through the leaves, and the whole mass becomes equally meliorated. When the leaves are stripped from the stalks, they are to be tied up in bunches or hands, and kept in a cellar or other damp place. At this period the tobacco is thoroughly cured, and as proper for manufacturing as that imported from the colonies.

ORIGINAL POETRY.

NEW WORDS TO AN OLD TUNE.

A COMIC DITTY.

Lieutenant Fire was fond of smoke,
And cash he ow’d a deal;
Tho’ some said he’d a heart of OAK,
For others it could feel:
With wit he was,—not money stor’d,—
His landlord thought it meet,
As he’d liv’d free so long on board,
Why he should join the Fleet.
The station he lik’d not at all,
And wish’d the duty o’er;
He saw some fights, and many ball,
But ne’er saw such before.
To banish care, he sought a rod,
And smok’d like any mid,
But unlike some,—altho’ in quod,—
Disdain’d to take a QUID.

And though a man, both short and stout,
All knew him in a crowd;
For oh, he never mov’d, without
His head was in a CLOUD:
In pris’n he met a friend he’d known
Full many years ago,
In ‘four in hand’ his cash had flown,
And now he’d come to WOE.
Poor Brown, alas! he had been GREEN,
And so his hopes had marr’d;
But thought it strange in turn, I ween,
He should be driven HARD.
Now he took snuff, in quantum suff.,
He thought it calm’d his woes,—
While one friend blew the light cigar,
The other blew his NOSE.
“As we have bask’d in fortune’s calm,
Now squalls come we’ll not flinch,”
Thus spoke the tar, and gave his arm,
And Brown gave him a PINCH.
“Now, Fire, all snuffs are good, we know,
Except when ill-prepar’d,
I love a BOX and you a BLOW,
But keep me from Blackguard.
At Lundyfoot I am no hand,
Seldom its dust I take, ah!
Each day or so, by turns, I go
From Strasburg to Jamaica.”
“’Tis well, my boy,” return’d the tar,
“Such journeys you can wend,
For fuel here don’t go so far,
Here’s plenty of WALLS-END.”

Of future scenes of happiness,
The tar he often spoke;
But they, indeed, as you may guess,
But ended all in SMOKE.
At length there money came one day,—
Each left the walls unkind;
The tar went out—yet strange to say,
His ASHES left behind!