"Well, it seems sort o' babyish not to smoke."
"Does it? I've never seen Grandpa Dinsmore smoke, and I don't believe he ever does, nor Uncle Edward, nor Uncle Horace either."
"No, they don't, and Art doesn't, but they're all sort o' pious old fogies," Ralph said, with a coarse laugh.
"I wouldn't talk so about my own relations, if I were you," returned Max, in a tone of disgust.
"Of course I shouldn't let anybody else say a word against them," said Ralph.
Arthur's entrance put an end to the conversation. He inquired of Max if the sickness were abating; then sitting down beside him, "Boys," he said, "I want to talk to you a little about this silly business of smoking and chewing."
"I've never chewed," said Max.
"I'm glad to hear it, and I hope you never will, or smoke again either. How would you like, Max, to have a cancer on your lip?"
"Cancer, sir? I wouldn't choose to have one for anything in the world."
"Then don't smoke, especially a short pipe, for it often causes cancer of the lip. I cut one out of a man's lip the other day; and not long ago saw a man die from one after months of agonizing pain. Tobacco contains a great deal of virulent poison, and though some persons use it for many years without much apparent injury, it costs many others loss of health and even of life. It weakens the nerves and the action of the heart, and is a fruitful source of dyspepsia."