"I have gone from bad to worse till I cannot stop, no matter how hard I
try. Why, I was once a clean little chap like you, but I got to reading
trash, and then I began to smoke, and pretty soon I had drifted so far into
evil ways that I had no control over myself."

Here Johnny and Albert exchanged a painful glance.

"The worst thing about cigarettes," the man continued, "is that they
usually lead to something worse. I am a drunkard and a thief, because of
evil associations. Tramps never have any ready money; so when I have to
have cigarettes, which is all the time, I either steal them or steal the
money to buy them with. Besides," with another sad shake of the head, "I am
what is known as a drug fiend, and--yes, I guess I am everything bad. If
your folks knew who was talking to you, their blood would run cold.

"And it is all principally due to cigarettes!" he broke forth, savagely,
emphasizing his words with his fist and speaking more excitedly. "Just look
at me and behold a splendid example of the cigarette curse. Why, I was
naturally bright; I might have been a man to honor. But a bad habit,
uncontrolled, soon ruins one. My nerves are gone. I am only a fit companion
for jailbirds and criminals. I cannot even look an honest man in the face,
yet I am not naturally bad at heart. The best way is never to begin; then
you will never have to suffer. Cigarettes will surely hurt you some day,
though you may not be able to see the effects at first."

The speaker's manner had changed greatly during the past few moments. At
first he had spoken calmly, but he was now more than agitated. His eyes
rolled and flashed in their dark caverns, and he spoke vehemently, with
excited gestures. Johnny and Albert stood close together, regarding him
with frightened eyes.