VIRGINIA TOBACCO.

Two maiden dames of sixty-two Together long had dwelt; Neither, alas! of love so true The bitter pang had felt. But age comes on, they say, apace, To warn us of our death, And wrinkles mar the fairest face,— At last it stops our breath. One of these dames tormented sore With that curst pang, toothache, Was at a loss for such a bore What remedy to take. "I've heard," thought she, "this ill to cure, A pipe is good, they say. Well then, tobacco I'll endure, And smoke the pain away." The pipe was lit, the tooth soon well, And she retired to rest, When then the other ancient belle Her spinster maid addressed,— "Let me request a favor, pray"— "I'll do it if I can"— "Oh! well, then, love, smoke every day, You smell so like a man!"