How beautifully simple and unanswerable is the oft-told tale, of the reply of a testy old gentleman who hated snuff as much as a certain elderly person is said to hate holy-water--when offered a pinch by an "extensive" young man with an elaborate gold-box.

"Sir," said the indignant patriarch, "I never take the filthy stuff! If the Almighty had intended my nostrils for a dust-pan, he would have turned them the other way."-- But I wander from the subject.

We will leave the fibre to find its way to Europe and its noses, and follow the leaf to America and its mouths.

In another apartment niggers and whites re-pick the fibres out more carefully, and then roll up the pure loaf in a cylindrical shape, according to the measure provided for the purpose.

It is then taken to another apartment, and placed in duly prepared compartments under a strong screw-press, by which operation it is transformed from a loose cylinder to a well squashed parallelogram.