“A certain miller was much annoyed by a goblin, who used to come and set his mill at work at night when there was no grain to be ground, greatly to the danger of the machinery, so he desired a person to watch. This person, however, always fell asleep, but once woke up from a nap time enough to see the mill in full operation, a blazing fire, and the goblin himself, a huge hairy being, sitting by the side thereof. ‘Fat’s yer name?’ said the Highlander. ‘Ourisk,’ said the unwelcome guest; ‘and what is yours?’ ‘Myself,’ was the reply; ‘her nain-sell.’ The goblin now went quietly to sleep, and the Highlander, taking a shovel of hot coals, flung them into the hairy lap of the goblin, who was instantly in a blaze. Out ran the monster to his companions, making as much noise as he could. ‘Well,’ said they, ‘who set you on fire?’ ‘Myself,’ said the unlucky monster. ‘Well, then, you must put it out yourself,’ was the consoling rejoinder.”

Some of my readers may arrive at the conclusion, that I, like the Ourisk, have trespassed upon other people’s property, and ground my corn at their mill. Let it not be assumed, on my account, inasmuch as I do not myself make that assumption, that I have journeyed from Cornhill to Cathay, in search of those who habituate themselves to the indulgences herein set forth. Others have laboured, and I have eaten of the fruits of their labours. Travellers numberless have contributed to furnish my table, in some instances, without even thanks for their pains. This is the way of the world, and I am not a whit better than my neighbours. Let it, therefore, be understood, that I make no pretensions to aught beyond the form in which these numerous contributions are now presented to the reader. The tedium of wading through volume after volume in search of information on these subjects has been performed for him, and compacted together into a pocket companion, saving, thereby, to him, a large amount of trouble, and a small amount of vexation. Private correspondence has furnished a portion of the information. Those who may recognise my own poaching pranks upon their domains may throw coals of fire upon my lap, and leave “Myself” to extinguish the flame.

Herein the reader will find only a popular history of the most important Narcotics indulged in, and the customs connected with that indulgence. Mere statistical details have as much as possible been avoided, and those calculated to interest the more matter-of-fact reader added in a tabulated form, as an appendix. The majority of these tables have been compiled from official documents, trade circulars, or commercial returns, and care has been taken to render them correct up to the period of their dates. In this department I am largely indebted to the valuable assistance of P.L. Simmonds, Esq., F.S.S., to whom I thus tender my thanks.

Those who are desirous of seeing specimens of the narcotics named in the following pages, can visit either the Museum of the Royal Botanic Gardens at Kew, the East India House Museum, the Food Department in the gallery of the South Kensington Museum, or the Industrial Museum in the gallery of the central transept of the Crystal Palace, in each of which they will meet with some of the articles named, though in none of them will they discover all. In the former two are illustrations of the opium manufacture, and at Kensington an interesting series of tobaccos, and other articles connected with the indulgence therein, and also with opium-smoking in China, together with some of the tobacco substitutes and sophistications. None of these collections are so complete as they might be. Public museums of this kind have every facility for doing more to instruct the public on the common things of every-day life: why they do not accomplish this, is as much a fault, perhaps, of the public as of themselves. There are hopes, however, to be entertained that one, at least, of these institutions will exhibit, in a complete and collected form, the principal narcotics and their substitutes.

Why I should have chosen such a title for my volume, and wherefore invested it with a legend, is matter of little importance. It was a fancy of my own, and if any think fit to quarrel with it, they may do so, without disturbing my peace of mind. The reply of the Ourisk to his companions, as to who set him on fire, was, “Myself.”

Parents seldom baptize their children with a name pleasing to all their friends and relatives, yet the child manages to get through the world with it, and—dies at last.

M.C.C.

Lambeth.