separates the legislative chamber itself from the conquering weed.  A further step forward (or backward, according to each reader’s judgment) was taken on July 21, 1913, when smoking was allowed at the sitting of the Standing Committee on Scottish Bills—­one of the committees which does not conduct its business in private.  On this occasion, after the luncheon interval, two members entered the committee room smoking, one a cigarette the other a cigar.  The former was soon finished; but the latter continued to shed its fragrance on the room.  Naturally the chairman, Mr. Arthur Henderson, was appealed to.  He gave a diplomatic reply.  It had been held, he said, by two chairmen that smoking was not in order at the public sessions of a Standing Committee; and, of course, if his ruling were formally asked he would be bound to follow precedent.  He said this with a suavity and a smile which disarmed any possible objector.  Nobody raised the formal point of order; so other members “lighted up,” and the proceedings went on peacefully to the appointed hour of closing.

Yet another sign of the times was the permission given not so very long ago to the drivers of taxi-cabs to smoke while driving fares—­a development regarding which there may well be two opinions.

The number of cigarette-smokers nowadays is legion; but to a very large number of “tobacconists” (in the old sense of the word) a pipe remains the most satisfactory of “smokes.”  A cigar or a cigarette is—­and it is not; the pipe renders its service again and again and yet remains—­a steadfast companion.  “Over a pipe” is a phrase of more meaning than “over a cigarette.”  Discussions are best conducted over a pipe.  No one can get too excited or over-heated in argument, no one can neglect the observance of the amenities of conversation, who talks thoughtfully between the pulls at his pipe, who has to pause now and again to refill, to strike a light, to knock out the ashes, or to perform one of those numberless little acts of devotion at the shrine of St. Nicotine, which fill up the pauses and conduce to reflection.  The Indians were wise in their generation when they made the circulation of the pipe an essential part of their pow-wows.  A conference founded on the mutual consumption of tobacco was likely, not, as the frivolous would say, to end in smoke, but to lead to solid and lasting results.  “The fact is, squire,” said Sam Slick, “the moment a man takes a pipe he becomes a philosopher.”  The pipe, says Thackeray, “draws wisdom from the lips of the philosopher, and shuts up the mouth of the foolish; it generates a style of conversation, contemplative, thoughtful, benevolent and unaffected....  May I die if I abuse that kindly weed which has given me so much pleasure.”

And what more fitting emblem of peace could be chosen than the calumet, the proffered pipe?  Tobacco, whatever its enemies may have said, or may yet say, is the friend of peace, the foe of strife, and the promoter of geniality and good fellowship.  Mrs. Battle, whose serious energies were all given to the great game of whist, unbent her mind, we are told, over a book.  Most men unbend over a pipe, even if the book is an accompaniment.