“Will ye have keek in my saddlebags, lass?” she asked, stretching a little to ease herself on the bed. “There’s a bittie parcel in there of an herb ye might find of interest.”
I found it immediately — by smell.
“Where on earth did you get that?” I asked, halfway amused.
“Farquard Campbell,” she replied matter-of-factly. “When ye told me what the difficulty was with my eyes, I asked Fentiman if he kent anything that might be of help, and he told me that he’d heard somewhere that hemp might be of use. Farquard Campbell has a field of it under cultivation, so I thought I might as well try it. It does seem to help. Would ye put it in my hand, please, niece?”
Fascinated, I put the parcel of hemp and the little stack of papers down on the table beside her, and guided her hand to it. Rolling carefully onto her side to prevent the poultice falling off, she took a good pinch of aromatic herb, sprinkled it down the center of the paper, and rolled as tidy a joint as I had ever seen in Boston.
Without comment, I held the candle flame for her to light it, and she eased herself back on the pillow, nostrils flaring as she took a deep lungful of smoke.
Diana Gabaldon, A Breath of Snow and Ashes (Chapter 110 – The Smell of Light)