In boyhood, I perceived that to my younger sisters mere drops of wine caused coughing and spitting, and the heat of wine to my own palate and throat was offensive. Beer, ale, and porter disgusted me by their bitterness. Porter was peculiarly nauseous to me. I early saw the ill-effects of wine on youths, and was frightened by accounts of college drunkenness. For this reason, as well as from economy, I never became a wine-drinker, further than to drink healths by just colouring water in a glass. I have never dreamed of needing wine, though often in old time ordered by physicians to drink it. Not having then the same power to look over their heads-which experience of their changes and their follies has brought to me-I used to obey a little while, but quickly reverted to my glass of water, and never had reason to believe, from my own case, that there was any advantage from the wine. In 1860-1, the Parisian experiments proved that all alcohol arrests digestion. Since then I have called myself a teetotaler. To me it seems clear that love of the drink, or fear of losing patients by forbidding it, are the true cause of the fuss made in its favour. I grieve that so noble a fruit as grapes should be wasted on wine. The same remark will hold of barley, of honey, of raisins, of dates: from which men make intoxicating drinks. As to tobacco-while I was in Turkey more than fifty years ago, I learned to smoke Turkish tobacco in a long Turkish pipe, partly to relieve evil smells, partly because it is uncivil there to refuse the proffered pipe. I never was aware of good or evil from it, and with perfect ease laid it aside when I quitted the soil of Asia. After this, a cigar was recommended to me in England, as a remedy for loss of sleep, but the essential oil of tobacco so near to my nose disgusted me, and the heat or smoke distressed my eyes. I have never felt any pleasure, rather annoyance, from English smoking; and since the late Sir Benjamin Brodie published his pamphlet against it (perhaps in 1855), I have learned that the practice is simply baneful. They say "it soothes"—which I interpret to mean—"it makes me inattentive and dreamy."

FRANCIS W. NEWMAN.
March 2, 1882.