TOBACCO-PIPE CONTROVERSY.
A furious, and yet unappeased, controversy has lately raged in the newspapers, upon the question of the filthy nuisance of smoking tobacco—segars or pipe; and as in all other cases when men allow their passions to be heated by opposition, has run in great personalities between gentlemen who sign themselves Viator and Tabatiere. Whole columns of the newspapers have been occupied in discussing, in the first place, whether a man who smokes at all is a beast or not; and secondly, the argument has run into the comparative beastliness of smoking and snuffing. A future Hume, on looking over the journals, may thus sum up the merits of the case. About this period great hostilities arose between the advocates of segars and their opponents, which occupied the attention of thousands, who took a lively interest in the successful issue of the controversy. By the advocates for the practice it was urged with some plausibility of statement, that as to the pleasure of a segar, none but those who used them ought to express an opinion upon the point—that to appeal to experience, tobacco was in more universal use among nations than bread corn—that it had been known to stay the plague, and was the friend and companion of rich and poor. These statements were met with undisguised contempt, and it was retaliated, that the practice of using tobacco either by smoke or snuff, was a nuisance to others, thus infringing the very primary principles of civil liberty—that it led to drunkenness and debauch—that snuff spoiled the complexion—stopped the nose to the perception of odours—and that as to the ladies, they would positively spurn any approach of familiar friendship from a snuff-taker. This raised the concealed anger of the snuff-takers, who had hitherto maintained a stubborn neutrality while the argument was kept to smoke. They replied both by wit and invective—they affirmed snuff to have a moral use—"Dust to dust"—would remind them of the brevity of life—that the king and ministers patronized the habit, and gave away £10,000 worth of snuff-boxes in every year—that as to the nose being blockaded, that was a happy circumstance to London residents, and enabled them to acquire the French accent more naturally—that as to the assumed yellowness of complexion complained of, it was only studious and Werter-like—and that as to the ladies refusing to be saluted by snuff-takers, that was a thing which modesty and prudence required them to sneeze at. The historian might add by way of reflection, that nothing could more clearly show the national freedom from anxious cares, when it was thought that the public took interest in the comparative merits of blackened teeth or a snuffy pocket-handkerchief.—The Inspector.
FASHIONABLE NOVELS.
Of the slip-slop reading, under this denomination, with which the town has lately been inundated, the following is a fair specimen:—
Hyde Nugent.—The book is made up completely of the gossip of drawing-rooms, hotels, dinners, and balls. As to the hero, if any one has a grain of curiosity about him—gratify it. Hyde is the son of a man of family and fortune; he goes to Oxford, fights a duel, and is expelled—prevails upon a marquess to break the matter to the father—falls in love with the marquess's daughter—goes large and loose about town—is every where introduced—and one of every party. Notwithstanding certain warnings, and his own disgusts, he frequents Crockford's—gets plucked, and moreover deeply involved with the Jews. In the meanwhile he does not neglect the marquess's daughter. They soon come to an understanding. He is irresistible—she is an houri. But the consciousness of his embarrassments press heavily upon him, and he is on the point of taking some desperate step, when he is summoned to attend a friend in a duel, who kills his antagonist; and he and Hyde are obliged to fly. This rescues him from his gaming associates; though he gets among others at Lisbon, and narrowly escapes assassination. On his return to England, his sister has married a duke's eldest son, and all the family visit the said duke's, and there also assemble the aforesaid marquess and his beautiful daughter.
But now comes forward more than before, an officer of the guards—a guardsman is now become indispensable—who is also in love with the marquess's daughter, and being not at all scrupulous of the means of accomplishing his point—a very worthless person in short—he plays Iago, and pours into the lady's ear the tale of Hyde's gambling propensities, and his deep involvements; and moreover of a lady whose affection he had wantonly won, and wantonly cut, and who was now actually dying for him. This, however, was not all true; the lady alluded to was the daughter of his father's friend and neighbour; she and Hyde had been brought up together from children, and played and romped together, and once, before Hyde went to Oxford, he had forced from her a kiss. The poor fond girl had treasured up the kiss, and Hyde had thought no more of her, or of it. She, however, pined away, and let concealment feed on her damask cheek; and at this time was at Brighton for change of air. She has a brother, a lancer; he hears, through Hyde's precious rival, of the state of his sister, and for the first time, of the cause. He flies to the duke's—though deeply occupied, at the moment, in seducing the affections of a married woman in Ireland—and calls upon Hyde to meet him forthwith. Hyde's rival is the lancer's second. Hyde falls, and as he is borne bleeding to the house, Lady Georgina, the marquess's daughter, meets him. The shock kills her outright, and the story stops; but hints are given that he slowly recovers, and by still slower degrees is brought to think of the charming girl, who had treasured his boyish kiss, and marries.—Monthly Magazine.
MAN-EATING SOCIETY.
There is a horrible institution among some of the Indian tribes, which furnishes a powerful illustration of their never-tiring love of vengeance. It is called the Man-Eating Society, and it is the duty of its associates to devour such prisoners as are preserved and delivered to them for that purpose. The members of this society belong to a particular family, and the dreadful inheritance descends to all the children, male and female. Its duties cannot be dispensed with, and the sanctions of religion are added to the obligations of immemorial usage. The feast is considered a solemn ceremony, at which the whole tribe is collected as actors or spectators. The miserable victim is fastened to a stake, and burned at a slow fire, with all the refinements of cruelty which savage ingenuity can invent. There is a traditionary ritual, which regulates, with revolting precision, the whole course of procedure at these ceremonies. The institution has latterly declined, but we know those who have seen and related to us the incidents which occurred on these occasions, when white men were sacrificed and consumed. The chief of the family and principal members of the society among the Miames, whose name was White Skin, we have seen, and with feelings of loathing, excited by a narrative of his atrocities, amid the scenes when they occurred..—North American Review.