"
Were it not for the tobacco habit, we would need no smoking car.
Suppose women had a vice that required them a separate apartment from
the men when they travel. Even in the cars where the women travel
there are rooms fixed up in luxuriant style while poor mothers with their
babies have to sit upright and smell this rank and poisonous odor. But
of course women have no redress, or are made to think they have none.
Shame to you men, a decent dog will not bite a female, while men the
impulse of protecting their females they are lower than a decent beast.
While I was in New York City last week April the 2nd a Mr. Thomas
McGuire, treasurer of the Fourteenth Ave., Theatre had his tongue cut
out to prevent tobacco cancer from spreading. This was from smoking
cigars. General Grants' tongue rotted from the same cause.
This is one of the best poems on the vice I ever read. Author
unknown.
HE SMOKES.
"In the office, in the parlor;
On the sidewalk, on the street;
In the faces of the passers,
In the eyes of those he meets,
In the vestibule, the depot,
At the theatre or ball;
E'en at funerals and weddings,
And at christenings and all.
"Signs may threaten, men may warn him;
Babies cry and women coax;
But he cares not one iota,
For he calmly smokes and smokes.
Oh, he cares not whom he strangles,
Vexes, puts to flight, provokes;
And although they squirm and fidget,
He just smokes and smokes and smokes.
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