WHY JOHNNY DIDN'T SMOKE.
By Annie Preston
We were walking up and down the long platform of the railway station at New London one bright, spring morning, and enjoyed the fresh breeze that blew in from the Sound, while we waited for the Vermont Central train to take us on the northward. There were other strollers besides ourselves, and we particularly noticed a handsome young man for his scrupulous neatness, his quiet demeanor, and his firm, erect carriage. Presently he was accosted by a half dozen jolly young fellows, who were surprised and delighted at meeting him there. They plied him with hasty, cordial, boyish questions: “Where have you been?” “What have you been doing?” “How are you getting on?” We dropped down on a settee near by, amused at the merry, lively chat. Presently some one offered the young man a cigar. “Thank you, no,” he said. “I have given up smoking.” And then he added, laughing a little, and showing a set of very white teeth: “The fact is, when I reached home there seemed no place for me to smoke, and I was under the necessity of giving up the habit.” “Well, you see, I was glad enough to get home again, and after supper I went into the library, and laid down on the sofa in front of the open fire, and, lighting a cigar, prepared for a smoke. Pretty soon ma came in. Not my own mother; she died when I was a little thing; but this one, ever since my father married her, has made a pretty and pleasant home for me. As she walked along, I heard the soft rustle of her dress, and then I heard her sniff, sniff, and presently she said: ‘I fancied I smelled smoke.’ I held up my cigar, and confessed I had been smoking a little, off and on, for some time.” “O, is that so?” she said gently. “Well, Johnny, I don't know that it is surprising, but please do not let me see you smoking on the street, or when we12are out anywhere. I don't think I could bear that.” And I said: “Certainly not, ma. You can depend on me.” But I threw my cigar in the fire, having lost my enjoyment of it somehow, altho she did not scold. “Pretty soon my father came in, and he said, directly: ‘Ma tells me you have learned to smoke, my boy. Well, I suppose I ought to be surprised that you didn’t learn sooner, but don’t let me see you smoking around the house.’ And I said, ‘Certainly not, sir,’ and was glad he had taken it so pleasantly.” “Before the evening was half over, my Uncle Tom, who is my father’s partner in business, strolled over for a little chat, and as he took a seat, and looked me over in a way he has, as if he were taking account of stock, ma said, in her soft voice: ‘Johnny has a new accomplishment since he went away. He has learned to smoke.’” “Dear me! is that so?” exclaimed Uncle Tom. “Well, why boys will persist in burning up their hard earnings is a mystery to me; but you won’t let me see you smoking around the factory, I hope. I shouldn’t enjoy seeing my nephew and bookkeeper and prospective partner about the works with a pipe or a cigar in his mouth.” “Uncle Tom is a great go-to-meeting man. One evening he asked me to go with him, and as I had no excuse to offer, I went. There was a collection, and Uncle Tom said to me: ‘I used to use tobacco and beer, but since I left it off, I have put what money I save in that way in the Lord’s work, and it gives me more pleasure than I ever got from smoke or drink.’” “‘I will do that, too, sir,’ I said, ‘I will follow so excellent an example for a year, and then if I am no poorer, I will keep it up as long as I live.’ So I began saving my dimes. I had to go to church to put them in the box, of course, and in that way I became interested in the religion I heard preached, and concluded that I needed it as much as any one. So, boys, I am a Christian, and a church member, and I feel as if I had been getting on quite a little.” “I like your speaking out, and telling us about it,” said the jolliest young fellow of them all. “It gives me faith to believe that you have got hold of something worth having.” “All aboard for the North!” shouted Conductor Doane. And the next minute we were moving rapidly away, leaving the group still talking. Mrs. Annie Preston, in Onward.