are driven by a storm of rain to take shelter in a wayside ale-house, Adams “immediately procured himself a good fire, a toast and ale, and a pipe, and began to smoke with great content, utterly forgetting everything that had happened.”  In the same inn, after Mrs. Slipslop has appeared and disappeared, Adams smokes three pipes and takes “a comfortable nap in a great chair,” so leaving the lovers, Joseph and Fanny, to enjoy a delightful time together.

At another inn a country squire is discovered smoking his pipe by the door and the parson promptly joins him.  Again, he smokes before he goes to bed, and before he breakfasts the next morning; and when he goes into the inn garden with the host who is willing to trust him, both host and parson light their pipes before beginning to gossip.  Farther on, when the hospitable Mr. Wilson takes the weary wayfarers in, Parson Adams loses no time in filling himself with ale, as Fielding puts it, and lighting his pipe.  The menfolk—­Wilson, Adams and Joseph—­have to spend the night seated round the fire, but apparently Adams is the only one who seeks the solace of tobacco.  It is significant that Wilson, in telling the story of his dissipated early life, classes smoking with “singing, holloaing, wrangling, drinking, toasting,” and other diversions of “jolly companions.”

There is no mention of Parson Trulliber’s pipe, but that pig-breeder and lover can hardly have been a non-smoker.  Both the other clerical characters who appear in the book, the Roman Catholic priest who makes an equivocal appearance in the eighth chapter of the third book, and Parson Barnabas, who thinks that his own sermons are at least equal to Tillotson’s, smoke their pipes.  The other smokers in “Joseph Andrews” are the surgeon and the exciseman who, early in the story, are found sitting in the inn kitchen with Parson Barnabas, “smoking their pipes over some syderand”—­the mysterious “cup” being a mixture of cider and something spirituous—­and Joseph’s father, old Gaffer Andrews, who appears at the end of the story, and complains bitterly that he wants his pipe, not having had a whiff that morning.

Fielding himself smoked his pipe.  When his play “The Wedding Day” was produced by Garrick in 1743, various suggestions were made to the author as to the excision of certain passages, and the modification of one of the scenes.  Garrick pressed for certain omissions, but—­“No, damn them,” said Fielding, “if the scene is not a good one, let them find that out”; and then, according to Murphy, he retired to the green-room, where, during the progress of the play, he smoked his pipe and drank champagne.  Presently he heard the sound of hissing, and when Garrick came in and explained that the audience had hissed the scene he had wished to have modified, all Fielding said was:  “Oh, damn them, they have found it out, have they!”

Simon Fraser, Lord Lovat, the crafty old Jacobite who took part in the rising of 1745 and who was executed on Tower Hill in 1747, was a smoker.  The pipe which he was reported to have smoked on the evening before his execution, together with his snuff-box and a canvas tobacco-bag, were for many years in the possession of the Society of Cogers, the famous debating society of Fleet Street.