Chuzzlewit Iiii: On Smoking Poem by Douglas Scotney

If there wasn't a spittoon
some would convert another man's house into one
and think that spitting on its floor
'was a delicate attention, full of interest and politeness,
of which nobody could ever tire.'

Given Martin's disdain for smoking and chewing tobacco,
I thought Dickens had the same,
and it wasn't something from that
that struck him down at 58.

I sought help from Wikipedia,
and read he smoked cigars from 15.
One day he broke his pipe
and had to go out and buy another.

To one archaeologist,
for that he didn't have another in the house,
he had a less than ingrained habit.

To one who said he smoked a lot,
and had a smoker's face,
raddled and lined,
I am more inclined.