of the British trade in this commodity, and that to such a degree, that the merchants of England were debarred altogether from having any traffic in it with any other country, The expectation of advantage to the mother country, from this monopoly, was founded, not on any thing peculiar to the trade in tobacco, but on the whole false and deceitful principles of the mercantile and colonial system of the time. To enforce the arguments from this source, let it be observed, that we had then a colonial interest, just as we have now a West India interest, an East India interest, and fifty other interests, who, if their own purposes be served, care very little about any other. Now, this colonial interest was as barefaced a jobbing interest as any we have ever been cursed with in England. In the House of Commons it was all-powerful, and pervaded every office of the government, from the treasury down to the shabbiest mart of venality connected with it. The colonial system, therefore, did not fail to find a determined band of supporters, both in parliament and out of it; and thus an argument for perpetuating the laws of James was forced on statesmen, who certainly were not ignorant of the interests of the community. The early ministers, however, of George III. had better reasons for their policy, than can be pleaded for those of the present time. If they prevented the consumers at home from purchasing from any other than the planters of Virginia, these last, in their turn, were compelled to bring all their goods to an English custom-house; so that England might be made the central mart of a rich and extensive traffic. Shortly before the revolution of the colonies, the average consumption of Great Britain was about fourteen thousand hogsheads; but the average quantity shipped to Great Britain from Virginia was rather more than ninetysix thousand hogsheads, eighty two thousand of which were re-exported to different parts of Europe. This trade was wholly carried on in ships, the property of British subjects, and by sailors, likewise natives of our own dominions; and thus the colonial trade served as a nursery for the ships and seamen of England. Even this argument, the only valid defence that can be made, cannot be pleaded by our modern legislators. The greater part of the whole trade in tobacco is now carried on by the ships and seamen of our ancient subjects, now the most selfish and insidious of our enemies. Of thirtythree millions five hundred thousand pounds of tobacco imported into England, about thirty-two millions are brought from the United States, the greater part in the ships of that country. It is plain, then, that all the arguments for a continuance of these laws, drawn from the supposed advantages of the prohibitory system, the good of our colonies, and the encouragement of our

That tobacco is a perfectly legitimate subject of taxation, will be disputed by no one. It has been so used in every country in Europe, and is incomparably better suited for the purpose, than many other objects of consumption on which taxes must of necessity be laid. Adam Smith, in commenting on the absurdity of laws prohibiting the cultivation of this plant in different parts of Europe (for it appears that England is not the only country that has been favoured at one time or other, with this species of legislation), assigns as the probable reason, that, to collect a tax from every farm in the country, where the plant might happen to be cultivated, would be more difficult than to levy one upon its importation at the customhouse. But let us reflect for a moment on the sacritices we make for the purpose of saving the labour of collecting the duty, in a way merely a little more laborious and expensive. We divert capital from a channel in which it could be productively employed in putting in motion the industry and labour of our own countrymen; and we are con tented instead, to employ. the capital and labour of a distant country, and to force the consumers at home to pay all the increased charges which arise from the expenses of transport from so remote a market. In addition to this, we must pay all the profits of the American planter, and the American importer, the latter of which would be saved, and the former paid to a customer at home. We do not wish to lead our readers into any abstract discussion on the different effects as regards the production of wealth, by employing a fund in the paying of native, or of foreign labour. We appeal to the plain common sense of every one, whether we ought to be compelled to traverse a great part of the globe to procure an article of consumption, which we could assuredly obtain at less expense at home; or whether it can be a valid defence of such a policy, that we can more easily exact a duty from the foreign merchant than the home producer.

That the tobacco plant may be produced to any extent in the British islands, is beyond a question. It grows in all the temperate zones to a high latitude. It is culti vated extensively in Germany and the Low Countries, and even in Sweden. It required all the intemperate laws of King James, and his successors, to repress its progress in England. During the American war, and previous to the application to Scotland of the prohibitory laws by the act of 1782, it was cultivated on the banks of the Tweed and

Teviot with the most promising results. This act overtook the planters in the midst of their labours, and compelled them to root up their plantations, and dispose of the produce to government at a third part of its market price. But this is not all. The plant had at length taken root in Ireland, notwithstanding the absurd anomaly in the law, which allowed the cultivation of the plant, but not its manufacture afterwards. Suited in a remarkable manner to cottage culture, and the state of small possessions existing in that country, there cannot be a doubt that the cultivation required only a beginning, to extend itself over the whole of the island. But the progress was proposed to be arrested in the very last session of parliament, by another of those tobacco acts, as unjustifiable, we conceive, as any that had preceded it. The argument by which this measure has been sought to be defended, is, that the law of Ireland cannot be kept different, in this respect, from the law of England. This may be conceded, but not the conclusion that is attempted to be drawn. The law of Ireland ought not to be made worse, but the law of England better; and the argument can be held in nothing satisfactory, which would justify the extension of a law, not because it diffuses a good, but because it produces an uniformity of evil.

We shall now proceed to give our readers a few details regarding the general character of the plant, the uses to which it is applicable, and the mode of cultivating it. The Herba Nicotiana, or tobacco, belongs to the order Monogynia and class Pentandria of botanists; and, according to the natural method, ranks under the 28th order, Luride. The corolla is funnel-shaped, with a plaited limb; the stamina inclined, and the capsule bivalved and bilocular. Some botanists enumerate eleven species, others only seven. We shall here mention three of the principal, and more usual of these; the Nicotiana fruticosa, or shrubby tobacco; the Nicotiana tabacum, or Virginian tobacco; and the Nicotiana rustica. Of the first, there is only one variety. It usually rises to the height of five feet, or upwards. The leaves are large and oval shaped; measuring generally about fifteen inches in length, and two inches in breadth, at the middle of the widest part. The base of the leaf half embraces the stalk. The flowers, which are of a white colour, grow in close bunches, and are succeeded by short, oval, obtuse seedvessels.

Of the second species, the Nicotiana tabacum, or Virginian tobacco, there are two varieties. First, that which is called the great broad-leaved Virginian tobacco. In this, the leaves are also large and oval shaped; being generally one foot and a half in length, and fourteen inches in width,

with a rough glutinous surface. In rich moist soils, the stalks sometimes grow as high as ten feet. The flowers, which come out in July or August, are upright and of a purple colour. The second is called the narrow-leaved Virginian tobacco. The stalk is upright and branching; rising usually to four or five feet in height. The lower leaves are about a foot long, and three or four inches broad. The flowers are of a bright purple, or red colour, grow in loose bunches, and generally come out some time in July or August.

The third species, the Nicotiana rustica, is of a much coarser description, and is very much cultivated in Europe. The stalk is strong and coarse; the leaves are shaped as in the variety last described, but are deeply furrowed on the surface; are nearly twice the size, and of a much darker green; the flowers are also upright, but much larger than in last variety. The other species, and their varieties, partake much of the same general character, differing only in minute particulars.

The most ancient, indeed, as we may almost say, the original use, to which tobacco seems to have been applied, is smoking. What effects result to the body and general health from this practice, has been much disputed; some affirming that they are beneficial, and others that they are deleterious. This is a question for physicians to determine. One thing, however, seems certain, that smoking greatly excites the whole system, and affords relief to low spirits. By what action on the system, other than by its narcotic powers, it produces this effect, we know not, but every smoker can testify the fact. Accordingly we find, that it is a practice most in use among people, who either from climate or temperament, are subject to melancholy, or among those who have not a free use of wine and spirituous liquors. The Turks, to whom the Koran forbids the use of wine, are more addicted to smoking than the inhabitants of any other nation and it is well known that seamen, when they are on a short allowance of grog, consume more tobacco than they do on ordinary occasions. The Dutch, who are a slow sluggish race of people, have the pipe in their mouths from morning till night; and the Spaniards, the sultry warmth of whose climate produces lassitude, also smoke a great deal. The Germans, and English, are both subject to occasional fits of low spirits, and among both is the pipe in pretty general use, particularly among the former, who have the best tobacco at extremely moderate prices. The French, again, who are a gay light-minded people, seldom smoke; and the Italians, whose spirits are so full of life, and whose atmosphere is so clear and invigorating, still more rarely.

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Snuffing and chewing are the only other

ways in which tobacco is used as a luxury. Snuffing is generally supposed to be of French origin, and the French at present certainly snuff more than any other nation. Chewing, as far as Europe is concerned, is now principally confined to our seamen, and to the inhabitants of the colder regions, such as Norway and Sweden. Perhaps this mode of taking tobacco has more real influence on the stomach and intestines than any of the others. The exuberant expectoration of a person, when he first begins to chew, must deprive the digestive organs of their necessary supply of saliva; and, in this way, may injure the health. This effect, however, does not continue to be produced beyond a certain time; for when the individual becomes habituated, nature, kindly providing for all circumstances, produces an additional quantity.

The tobacco plant is found to thrive in all temperate climates; but that produced in the tropics is most esteemed, as possessing the finest flavour. The mode pursued by the original Indians, in cultivating it, cannot now be properly ascertained. The details of the present mode of cultivation differ in different climates; but the following general remarks may be applied equally to all.

The seeds are first raised in a bed, and from thence transplanted into a field. No pains ought to be spared in having the bed well laboured, as a very small one is capable of raising a sufficient number of plants for a large field. It must first be trenched to a considerable depth, and then carefully worked with the spade, so as to separate completely the particles of earth, and render the mould as fine as possible. In order to effect this, it ought to be delved two or three times at least, and each time a quantity of the richest manure ought to be put into it. Too much manure cannot possibly be used. Some planters even think, that in cold climates, hot-beds should be employed for the seeds, and that the quantity of manure should exceed that of the earth; but Carver assures us that this is a mistake, and that it will be found quite sufficient to manure as gardeners would say, very richly." When 'the bed is properly delved and manured, the seed must be sowed either in rows or broadcast. Rows are generally preferred; but this is a matter of perfect indifference. The middle of April is the proper seed-time. In a climate such as ours, however, it may be varied for a few days earlier or later, according to the season. As with us, at that time of the year, frost is very common, and as the seedlings are excessively sensible to cold, it will be necessary to protect them from it. For this purpose, a piece of matting should be stretched over the bed every evening before sunset; and in order to prevent from crushing the plants, it will be found necessary to support it on

small upright stakes, about a foot above the surface of the ground. This covering may be allowed to remain till sunrise, when it ought to be removed, in order that it may not interrupt the rays of the sun, nor prevent a free circulation of air. As the frost continues sometimes till late in the season, and as the weather is always uncertain, the matting may be constantly used till the plants are ready for removal. This they generally are about the middle of May, sooner or later, according to circumstances. An invariable rule, by which the time of their being ready for transplanting is reckoned, is the fourth leaf being sprouted, and the fifth just ready to sprout. The largest leaf ought then to be about two inches in length, and one in breadth; and the plant may at this time be removed with perfect safety.

When the seedlings are thus arriving at perfection, the field destined for receiving them ought to be prepared. This must first be carefully trenched, and then thoroughly laboured with the spade. The plough neither works deep enough, nor does it sufficiently separate the particles of earth; both of which are necessary; the tobacco having a very long tap-root, and a great many delicate fibres. When the ground is well laboured in this way, and manured, a series of little hillocks must be raised with the hoe, at the distance of about two feet from each other, and in the form of a quincunx. Some planters prefer the square form: but Bosc and Carver are in favour of the quincunx, which is the most usual in the American plantations. These hillocks, which are meant to receive the plants, are hollowed out in the top, and a quantity of good manure laid in the cavity. When all is ready in the field, and the seedlings are in a proper state of forwardness, they are transplanted. This operation must be performed with great care, as the leaves at this age, being exceedingly brittle, are apt to be broken. A small quantity of earth is taken up along with the plant, and it is in this state placed in the cavity prepared for it, and the earth pressed carefully round the stalk with the hand. The field being planted, the next care is, to keep it free from weeds, to water the plants in dry weather, to lop off the dead leaves, and to keep the soil loose by constantly stirring it with the hoe. Negligence in any of these particulars may prove fatal to the whole field. Separate plants will unavoidably fail; and in order to supply the blanks formed by this casualty, the bed of seedlings should, for some weeks, be also attended to.

After the plants have grown to a considerable size, it becomes necessary to perform the operation of topping; that is, cutting off the flower, in order to prevent a waste of nutriment, and to keep the plant from running to seed. The proper time for doing this differs in different climates, and depends

upon the degree of strength which it is wished the tobacco should possess. When the plant is about two feet high, it puts forth the branches which bear the flowers and seed. Generally speaking, this is the proper time for topping. But as the strength of the tobacco is diminished, and it becomes much milder, if the operation be postponed, this rule does not always hold. In America, the number of the leaves on the stalk usually determine this matter. If mild tobacco be wanted, the operation is not performed until the plant have from eighteen to twenty leaves. If it be done when there are fifteen leaves, the tobacco will be of a moderate strength; and if there are only eleven or twelve, it will be remarkably powerful. The operation of topping is best performed by the finger and the thumb as the grasp of the finger closes the pores, which, in cutting with a knife or scissors, would be left open. After the operation is performed, little sprouts will constantly be springing from the roots of the leaves, all of which must be carefully lopped off at their first appearance. This process of lopping off the sprouts, is technically termed succouring, or suckering, the plant.

The particular time when the plant may be said to be ripe, differs, too, in different climates, and depends very much upon the time of planting. It may, however, be considered fully ripe when the leaves become corrugated and rough, and mottled with yellow spots on the raised parts, while the cavities between retain their original green colour. At this time they also become thicker, and the foot stalks are covered with a downy velvet. If the weather be moderate, it is better to allow the plants to stand, until all these indications are apparent; but should frost come, they must be cut up, whether they are quite ripe or not. When the leaves begin to be corrugated they must be nearly so.

When quite ripe, the gatherer proceeds to the field on the first fine day; and, laying hold of the plant near the top with one hand, he cuts it over, with a large knife or axe, as near the root as possible, with the other. The stalk being severed, it is laid down with great care on the ground. The utmost gentleness must be used, in order to prevent the leaves, which are extremely tender and brittle, from being broken. The whole plants on the field being laid down, they are allowed to remain, during the rest of the day, exposed to the rays of the sun, and in the evening they will be found quite pliant and flexible; or, as the Americans call it, wilted. Should the weather prove rainy, the operation of wilting must be allowed to go on under cover; but it is much more effectually done in the open air and, on this account, the gathering ought never to be commenced, unless the weather promises to be fine. In the evening, before

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sunset, when the leaves are completely wilted, and do not run so much risk of being broken, the plants are removed from the field, into a large shed or house for the purpose, and laid in large heaps on the floor, When they have been in this situation about twenty-four hours, they will begin to ferment; and, when this operation is going on, they must be constantly shifted, those on the top of the heap being put into the middle, and those in the middle on the top. During the fermenting, the leaves and stalks will assume a darker colour, and, if allowed to lie too long, will become mouldy, which must by no means be permitted. The process of fermenting may usually be allowed to continue three or four days, after which, the plants must be taken in pairs, and tied together at the roots, or have a peg run through their stalks, close to the bottom, and be suspended, in this way, with their leaves hanging down, with plenty of room between each pair, upon a cross-beam in the same shed.

After the leaves are thoroughly dried, which they will in general be, after hanging about a month, the plants may be taken down. A damp day ought to be selected for this purpose, otherwise the leaves are apt, from their extreme dryness, to crumble into dust.

But if the atmosphere be damp, their great affinity to moisture will prevent such a casualty. When down, they are again laid in heaps, and pressed together by large logs of wood. Fermentation will again commence, and may be allowed to continue about a week. Great care must be taken, however, to prevent the heat from becoming too great, and, in order to do this, the person in attendance must constantly keep inserting his hand into the heap. When the heat exceeds a glowing warmth, it may be considered too powerful, and must be reduced by the removal of some of the wood. This second fermenting process, which in technical language is termed "the second sweating," is sometimes omitted; but both Bosc and Carver agree in recommending it, as it tends much to mellow the taste of the tobacco. It is generally allowed to continue for about a week, after which the plants are separated, and the leaves, being stripped off, are tied together in bunches, technically called hands. This is the last operation performed by the planter, who sells the tobacco" in hands" to the manufacturer.

EVENING DRESS.

IN an evening dress the nymphs now-a-days,
Scarce an atom of dress on them leave;
Nor blame them:-for what is an evening-dress,
But a dress that is fit for an Eve!

WE are able to state, on indubitable authority, that the only literary works which sell at this season of the year (with the exception of our own), are books for tourists. It is right that it should be so; for in the merry months of June, and the three which follow, external nature is an unbought book, opened at its brightest and most illuminated page, which they who run may read, and which none can read without imbibing deep draughts of health and happiness. The summer of the visible world communicates, by some invisible process, its sunshine to the soul of man; and, passing as it were into a new state of existence, who does not earnestly long for a "beaker full of the warm south"

"Tasting of Flora and the country green, Dance, and provençal song, and sunburnt mirth?"

In more homely phrase, the town becomes too hot to hold us, and away we dash into the breezy fields in old family chariots, in stage-coaches, on the tops of mails, in gigs, in curricles, in stanhopes, in dennets, in waggons, and in carts. All congregations of houses are left silent and deserted-nuts without their kernels-cages without their birds-shells without their fish. From the time the sun enters Cancer, until he leaves Scorpio, it is in vain to look for human beings in cities. You may find them on the tops of hills-you may find them in the depths of woods-you may find them up to the middle in running streams-you may find them buried among clover-you may catch them floating upon lakes-you may start them amidst the Righi solitudes, or see them passing in shoals through the Trosachs; but hope not to encounter them in their accustomed walk "on the Rialto." There is a principle in human nature which loathes the dust and the heat, the fever and the fret, of a metropolis, whilst the merry birds are abroad in the blue or dappled sky-whiist the mountain bee is wending his devious way with an unceasing hum of joy over the heath and heather-whilst "the mower whets his scythe, and the milk-maid singeth blythe."

Seeing, therefore, that it is beyond all matter of dispute that one must be off to the country, and business left to shift for itself, and the affairs of the world to proceed as best they may (for who cares about the civil or political state of Europe in summer?) the only remaining question is where is one to go? If you are a married man, with a large small family, and limited income, c'en est fait-there need be no hesitation. You must take a cottage of three rooms and a kitchen in some sea-bathing village, into which, upon some high-pressure principle, you must squeeze your whole community,

together with several cart-loads of furniture; and for six weeks or so you must duly plunge the small fry into that part of the ocean which breaks into muddy foam upon the shore, and contains a proper mixture of sand and sea-weed-whilst you yourself may find some favourite pool among the rocks, covered with limpets, tangle, and young crabs, and dabble in it for half an hour' every morning and evening, to the great refreshment of your corporeal frame. But if the fates have allowed you twelve, instead of three hundred a year, and if they have either kept you out of the treacherous Corrievreckan of matrimony altogether, or blessed you with a fair and gentle being, who has happily not yet begun to show any symptoms of having over-prolific tendencies -then you are a freer and a much more to be envied man; and a far wider range is within your choice.

Perhaps you may wish to visit France ? Then take "Reichard's Descriptive Road Book," and " Albany's Guide to Calais," in your pocket, and you cannot go wrong. Sunny France! we know thee thoroughly; and now that Bonaparte is dead, and his flat-bottomed boats are no longer in the harbour of Boulogne, and that England is thy sister-not thy foe-we care not though we tell thee that we love thee passing well.

Be

Perhaps you may wish to visit Switzerland? Your soul may long with a deep longing for the Alps, the Simplon, and the Glaciers-for one intense gaze on the Rhine, Geneva, and Lucerne-one glorious ramble through Clarens and Lausanne. Then take with you Wall's new edition of "Ebel's Guide through Switzerland," and you may safely plunge away into the abysses of the Julian, Noric, Carnic, Rhetian, and Helvetic Alps. If you are lost in the Canton of Zug, or frozen to death in July, on St. Gothard, or get yourself jammed in the entrance to the Grotto of Balme, or slip through a cleft of the Glaciers, or tumble over the Devil's Bridge-it must be your own fault. sides, your death will be a picturesque one, and ten to one whether you will ever be missed. The number of tourists who are swallowed up by avalanches, or who fall over icy precipices every year in Switzer-> land, is immense; and on the whole, it is an easy and desirable mode of death. Look at that pic-nic party, for example-consisting of one or two chatty elderly ladies, with their well-fed goodnatured-looking husbands —old baronets, perhaps, and shareholders in a respectable banking establishment in London, fat and comfortable-their daughters, and their daughters' friends, their sons, and their sons' friends-the young ladies all very gay, in white satin bonnets, pelerins, and parasols-and the young gentlemen exceedingly smart, each in a fashionable summer costume ;-well, this pic-nic party, having