From the above-mentioned quantities of different snuffs, thus distributed throughout the kingdom, novelty being quickly caught in England, arose the custom and fashion of snuff-taking; and growing upon the nation by degrees, they are now as common here, as almost in any other part of Europe; France alone excepted.
After giving us a somewhat elaborate account of the manufactures of different Spanish, Havannah and Brazilian snuffs, Lillie proceeds to describe a snuff he calls ‘Inferior Lisbon,’ that singularly enough, closely approximates to the celebrated Lundy Foot. “This kind,” he says “from the great heat used in drying it, has an agreeable smell, like high-dried malt, and is often called snuff of the burnt flavour; but the smell soon goes off on exposure to the air, for which reason, it is advisable to put no more into the snuff-box than shall be used whilst fresh.” Though we cannot but be aware, from the preceding account, that a snuff exactly resembling in all its attributes our own famous high-dried, called Lundyfoot, so named from the nominal inventor, existed; yet the history of its discovery is of too facetious a description to be omitted here.
Lundy Foot, the celebrated snuff manufacturer, some six-and-twenty years ago, had his premises at Essex-bridge in Dublin, where he made the common scented snuffs then in vogue. In preparing the snuffs, it was usual to dry them by a kiln at night, which kiln was always left in strict charge of a man appointed to regulate the heat, and see the snuffs were not spoilt. The man usually employed in this business, Larey by name, a tight boy of Cork, chanced to get drunk over the ‘cratur’, (i. e. a little whiskey) that he had gotten to comfort him, and quite regardless of his watch, fell fast asleep, leaving the snuff drying away. Going his usual round in the morning, Lundy Foot found the kiln still burning, and its guardian lying snoring with the fatal bottle, now empty, in his right hand. Imagining the snuff quite spoilt, and giving way to his rage, he instantly began belabouring the shoulders of the sleeper with the stick he carried.
“Och, be quiet wid ye, what the devil’s the matter, master, that ye be playing that game,” shouted the astounded Larey, as he sprung up and capered about under the influence of the other’s walking cane.
“You infernal scoundrel, I’ll teach you to get drunk, fall asleep, and suffer my property to get spoilt,” uttered the enraged manufacturer, as each word was accompanied by a blow across the dancing Mr. Larey’s shoulders.
“Stop! stop! wid ye, now; sure you wouldn’t be afther spaking to ye’r ould sarvant that way,—the snuff’s only a little dryer, or so, may be,” exclaimed ‘the boy,’ trying to soften matters.
“You big blackguard you, didn’t you get drunk and fall asleep?” interrogated his master, as he suspended his arm for a moment.
“Och by all the saints, that’s a good’un now, where can be the harum of slaaping wid a drop or so; besides—but hould that shilelah—hear a man spake raison.”
Just as Lundy Foot’s wrath had in some degree subsided in this serio-comic scene, and he had given the negligent watcher his nominal discharge, who should come in but a couple of merchants. They instantly gave him a large order for the snuffs they were usually in the habit of purchasing, and requested to have it ready for shipping by the next day. Not having near so large a quantity at the time by him, in consequence of what had happened, he related the occurrence to them, at the same time, by way of illustration, pointing out the trembling Larey, occupied in rubbing his arms and back, and making all kinds of contortions.
Actuated by curiosity, the visitors requested to look at the snuff, although Lundy Foot told them, from the time it had been drying, it must be burnt to a chip. Having taken out the tins, they were observed to emit a burnt flavour, anything but disagreeable, and on one of the gentlemen taking a pinch up and putting it to his nose, he pronounced it the best snuff he had ever tasted. Upon this, the others made a similar trial, and all agreed that chance had brought it to a degree of perfection before unknown. Reserving about a third, Lundy Foot sold the rest to his visitors. The only thing that remained now, was to give it a name: for this purpose, in a facetious mood, arising from the sudden turn affairs had taken, the master called his man to him who was lingering near, “Come here, you Irish blackguard, and tell these gentlemen what you call this snuff, of your own making.”