DigiCat Publishing presents to you this special edition of "My Lady Nicotine: A Study in Smoke" by J. M. Barrie. DigiCat Publishing considers every written word to be a legacy of humankind. Every DigiCat book has been carefully reproduced for republishing in a new modern format. The books are available in print, as well as ebooks. DigiCat hopes you will treat this work with the acknowledgment and passion it deserves as a classic of world literature.

My Lady Nicotine "—a book that suggests but is very unlike " The Reveries of a Bachelor." The former is urban : the latter is provincial. A briar pipe filled with Arcadia Mixture starts the reveries in the one ; a hearth fire, in the other. The five bachelors in " My Lady Nicotine " seem to be utterly dissimilar in tastes and feelings—and have only one bond of union, their common love for the famous Arcadia Mixture. The solemnity with which they treat their pipes; their assured superiority to everybody outside of the circle which knows and appreciates that mysterious brand of tobacco ; the sentimental selfishness of their bachelor existence, and the delicate humor with which the quiet episodes are narrated—these are some of the charming qualities of the book. But the crowning humor of it is that the story is told by one of their number who boldly announces in the first chapter that he has married, and his wife has won him from his pipe and his comrades. He cheaply moralizes on their enslavement, and then in reveries calls up the happy days when he smoked with them. The closing chapter is a most subtle piece of writing. The narrator praises his constancy to his promise never to smoke again, and adds: " I have not even any craving for the Arcadia now, though it is a tobacco that should only be smoked by our greatest men." Then he confesses that when his wife is asleep and all the house is still, he sits with his empty briar in his mouth, and listens to the taps of a pipe in the hands of a smoker (whom he has never seen) on the other side of

J.M. Barrie's 'My Lady Nicotine' is a charming collection of =essays centered around the author's love of tobacco and his fellow smokers. Through witty observations and relatable human foibles, Barrie takes readers on a journey through the world of Victorian England, where a group of friends could come together to discuss life and enjoy their favorite tobacco blend. While some of the material may seem dated, the timeless humor and engaging storytelling make this an enjoyable read for contemporary audiences.

My Lady Nicotine "—a book that suggests but is very unlike " The Reveries of a Bachelor." The former is urban : the latter is provincial. A briar pipe filled with Arcadia Mixture starts the reveries in the one ; a hearth fire, in the other. The five bachelors in " My Lady Nicotine " seem to be utterly dissimilar in tastes and feelings—and have only one bond of union, their common love for the famous Arcadia Mixture. The solemnity with which they treat their pipes; their assured superiority to everybody outside of the circle which knows and appreciates that mysterious brand of tobacco ; the sentimental selfishness of their bachelor existence, and the delicate humor with which the quiet episodes are narrated—these are some of the charming qualities of the book. But the crowning humor of it is that the story is told by one of their number who boldly announces in the first chapter that he has married, and his wife has won him from his pipe and his comrades. He cheaply moralizes on their enslavement, and then in reveries calls up the happy days when he smoked with them. The closing chapter is a most subtle piece of writing. The narrator praises his constancy to his promise never to smoke again, and adds: " I have not even any craving for the Arcadia now, though it is a tobacco that should only be smoked by our greatest men." Then he confesses that when his wife is asleep and all the house is still, he sits with his empty briar in his mouth, and listens to the taps of a pipe in the hands of a smoker (whom he has never seen) on the other side of the wall. " When the man through the wall lights up I put my cold pipe in my mouth and we have a quiet hour together."

The circumstances in which I gave up smoking were these: I was a mere bachelor, drifting toward what I now see to be a tragic middle age. I had becomeso accustomed to smoke issuing from my mouth that I felt incomplete without it; indeed, thetime came when I could refrain from smoking if doing nothing else, but hardly during the hoursof toil. To lay aside my pipe was to find myself soon afterward wandering restlessly round mytable. No blind beggar was ever more abjectly led by his dog, or more loath to cut the string.I am much better without tobacco, and already have a difficulty in sympathizing with theman I used to be. Even to call him up, as it were, and regard him without prejudice is a difficulttask, for we forget the old selves on whom we have turned our backs, as we forget a street thathas been reconstructed. Does the freed slave always shiver at the crack of a whip? I fancy not, for I recall but dimly, and without acute suffering, the horrors of my smoking days. There werenights when I awoke with a pain at my heart that made me hold my breath. I did not dare move.After perhaps ten minutes of dread, I would shift my position an inch at a time. Less frequentlyI felt this sting in the daytime, and believed I was dying while my friends were talking to me. Inever mentioned these experiences to a human being; indeed, though a medical man wasamong my companions, I cunningly deceived him on the rare occasions when he questioned meabout the amount of tobacco I was consuming weekly. Often in the dark I not only vowed togive up smoking, but wondered why I cared for it. Next morning I went straight from breakfastto my pipe, without the smallest struggle with myself. Latterly I knew, while resolving to breakmyself of the habit, that I would be better employed trying to sleep. I had elaborate ways ofcheating myself, but it became disagreeable to me to know how many ounces of tobacco I wassmoking weekly. Often I smoked cigarettes to reduce the number of my cigar

Matrimony and Smoking compared, My First Cigar, The Arcadia Mixture, My Pipes, My Tobacco-Pouch, My Smoking-Table, Gilray, Marriot, Jimmy, Scrymgeour, His Wife's Cigars, Gilray's Flower-Pot, The Grandest Scene in History, My Brother Henry, House-Boat "Arcadia", The Arcadia Mixture Again, The Romance of a Pipe-Cleaner, What could he do?, Primus, Primus to his Uncle, English-grown Tobacco, How Heroes smoke, The Ghost of Christmas Eve, Not the Arcadia, A Face that haunted Marriot, Arcadians at Bay, Jimmy's Dream, Gilray's Dream, Pettigrew's Dream, The Murder in the Inn, The Perils of not Smoking, My Last Pipe, When my Wife is Asleep and all the House is Still

My Lady Nicotine "—a book that suggests but is very unlike " The Reveries of a Bachelor." The former is urban : the latter is provincial. A briar pipe filled with Arcadia Mixture starts the reveries in the one ; a hearth fire, in the other. The five bachelors in " My Lady Nicotine " seem to be utterly dissimilar in tastes and feelings—and have only one bond of union, their common love for the famous Arcadia Mixture. The solemnity with which they treat their pipes; their assured superiority to everybody outside of the circle which knows and appreciates that mysterious brand of tobacco ; the sentimental selfishness of their bachelor existence, and the delicate humor with which the quiet episodes are narrated—these are some of the charming qualities of the book. But the crowning humor of it is that the story is told by one of their number who boldly announces in the first chapter that he has married, and his wife has won him from his pipe and his comrades. He cheaply moralizes on their enslavement, and then in reveries calls up the happy days when he smoked with them. The closing chapter is a most subtle piece of writing. The narrator praises his constancy to his promise never to smoke again, and adds: " I have not even any craving for the Arcadia now, though it is a tobacco that should only be smoked by our greatest men." Then he confesses that when his wife is asleep and all the house is still, he sits with his empty briar in his mouth, and listens to the taps of a pipe in the hands of a smoker (whom he has never seen) on the other side of