f them could have liked the fumes of a cigar.
They had not smoked enough for this.

Ben lighted a match, and then his cigar. Joe, as dignified as any
old smoker, took a light from him; and both of them puffed away,
and felt as big as though they were doing some great thing.

"Have a light, Tommy?" asked Ben. "If you are going with us, you
must learn to smoke."

"All the fellers that are anything smoke," added Joe.

"Then I'll smoke," replied Tommy. "I used to see lots of gentlemen
smoking cigars in Broadway, in New York, when I was there."

"Of course you did."

Tommy put the cigar into his mouth; he did not like the taste of
the thing, but he felt that it was a good cause, and he was willing
to be a martyr. Ben lent him his cigar to light it by; and with a
little instruction from his friends, he was soon able to puff away
as smart as any of them.

It was not half so bad as he had feared it would be. It did not
make him sick, at first, and he thought he was one of that kind who
can smoke without learning.

He felt as big as his companions then, for the wrong idea that
smoking was smart had taken full possession of him.

There are some savages who paint their faces--they think it is
smart; we don't think so. Some Indians wear bits of tin fastened to
the ends of their noses--they think it looks pretty; we don't think
so.

It does not follow, therefore, that every thing that looks smart is
so. A little boy, or any boy, with a cigar in his mouth, is a
disgusting sight to sensible people. We never heard of any man who
thought it was smart for boys to smoke, or to make use of tobacco
in any way.

"Now, Tom, tell us something about New York while we are smoking,"
said Ben.

"Well, I will, if you wish me to do so; but I have got almost tired
of talking about New York. Everybody wants to know what I saw
there."

[Illustration: Some Savages who paint their faces.]

"Do they?" laughed Joe.

"Yes; I don't like to say no to them, for I am willing to help
along those who don't know as much as I do."

"Do you mean to say we don't know as much as you do?" demanded Ben,
angrily.

"Well, you haven't been to New York--have you?"

"What if we haven't?"

"Then, of course, you can't know so much as I do. I was there a
week."

"If you say that again, I'll pound you," said Ben, rising.

"There's a stump for you, Tom," added Joe.

Tommy had not a great deal of courage; but, in a little while, Joe
Birch managed t