The boys continued their conversation, and soon reached the Cross-Roads. Driving the wagon up to Mr. Fletcher’s store, Clinton alighted, but on trying the door, he found it locked. Mr. Fletcher had evidently stepped out for a few minutes, and Clinton was about to hitch the horse to the post, and await his return, when Oscar proposed driving round to the “Falls,” instead of waiting there. Clinton at first refused; but Jerry and Oscar both joined in the request so earnestly, that he soon began to parley and hesitate, and finally ended by reluctantly yielding to their proposition. He accordingly jumped into the wagon, and turned the face of Fanny towards the Falls.
The lake, or pond, which has been before alluded to, has one outlet,—a little stream which flows away in a south-westerly direction, finally discharging into a larger river, which finds its way to the ocean. This little stream, which goes by the simple name of “The River,” in Brookdale, passes near by the Cross-Roads. About a mile beyond that village, it comes to a wild, romantic, down-hill place, where the waters tumble about, and frolic among the rocks, as though they really enjoyed the sport. This place is called “The Falls,” the descent of the river here being very marked. It is off from the common roads, the only way of reaching it being by a “wood-road,”—a sort of path through the forest, used by the teams in hauling wood. The very seclusion of the spot, however, made it the more charming, and it was often resorted to by pleasure parties in the summer.
The road through the woods being narrow and rough, Clinton could not drive very swiftly; but he and his companions talked fast enough to make up for their slow progress. They had not proceeded very far in this road, when Oscar drew from his pocket a small package, enveloped in a piece of paper, which he began to unroll slowly, and with a very knowing and significant look. The contents proved to be three cigars. Holding them out in his hand, he exclaimed:—
“How lucky! just one a-piece. Now, boys, for a good smoke. Take one, Clin; and here, Jerry, is one for you.”
Jerry took the cigar offered, but Clinton shook his head, saying that he did not smoke.
“You don’t know what you lose, then,” said Oscar. “I’ve smoked these two or three years, and I couldn’t live without my cigar, now. You can’t imagine how much pleasure there is in it. Come, just try this, and see if it isn’t nice.”
“No,” replied Clinton, “I don’t wish to. Father hates tobacco, in every shape, and he wouldn’t like it if he knew I smoked.”
“But this is all prejudice,” added Oscar. “Smoking never hurt me, yet, and nobody can make me believe that there is any harm in it. I felt a little sickish for a few minutes, the first time, but that was nothing. Come, try it, Clin,” he added, as he drew a match from his pocket, and lighted his own cigar; “try it—it can’t hurt you,—and besides, your father needn’t know anything about it.”
“Here goes mine,” said Jerry, as he touched off a match, and applied the fire to his cigar. “My father wont object, I know, for he smokes himself like everything; and if he did object, I guess it wouldn’t make much difference. I don’t intend to be a boy all my life-time.”
The two young smokers were soon puffing away in good earnest. Oscar was an old hand at the business, and Jerry had been practising pretty diligently since his city cousin came to live with him. Between each whiff, however, they renewed their assaults upon the good resolution of their comrade; and so skilfully and perseveringly did they conduct the attack, that Clinton, after a while, began to think it looked a little unsocial and obstinate to refuse to participate in their enjoyment. By the time they had reached the Falls, he had concluded to yield to their wishes. He accordingly drove Fanny into the water, and unhitched her bridle, that she might drink and cool herself. The three boys then threw themselves down upon the grass, beneath a large tree, and prepared to enjoy the scene, and at the same time repose their limbs. Clinton lighted his cigar,—and now commenced his first experience in tobacco. He was pleased with the new sensation; and as he lay upon his back, watching the delicate wreaths of smoke ascending from his cigar, and listening to Oscar,—who was spinning out one of his long yarns about a military muster he once witnessed in Boston,—the time flew by much faster than he was aware. His cigar had half disappeared, and those of his companions were nearly used up, when he happened to notice that the sun was fast declining, and would soon go down behind the tops of the tall pines on the other side of the stream. Tossing his cigar into the water, he jumped up, saying:—