HOW TO QUIT SMOKING.

HERE is a very particular friend of mine who lives on The Avenue. It does not make any difference which avenue. Inquiry in this direction might prove damaging.

I may add that, last summer, in an extended trip of several months, and over half the continent, I met everywhere people from Chicago. I made the acquaintance of several hundred of them, and found that every one of them lived" on The Avenue." If anybody ever met anybody from Chicago that did not live " on The Avenue," then some one has a different experience from what I have.

Moreover, I never met anybody any where who knew anybody in Chicago, without it happening that the Chicago acquaintance lived "on The Avenue." People whom one meets on the cars, in steamers, on horseback, or on foot, in any part of the globe, who are coming on a visit to Chicago, are invariably going to see somebody who lives "on The Avenue."

The Avenue of Chicago is enormously extensive, and the number of people in Chicago who are on it, is marvelous.

My friend who lives on the Avenue-it is neither Blue Island nor Milwaukee Avenue-sent for me last Monday night. He is a commission merchant on Water Street, like almost every body else in Chicago. He is a man of family-his own-and is aged about forty years.

His note asking me to come up was in haste, and was very unlike the usual clear, business-like chirography of my friend. The letters were stranded here and there along the lines, as though they were a large washing hung out to dry, and were agitated by a high wind.

I went up at once. Mrs. Brown admitted me, and bore a solemnity upon her face like unto that of a funeral. In response to my inquiries she groaned portentously, and said nothing. She led me to Brown's room opened the door and then went away.

I was horrified at what met my vision. My hitherto staid and respected friend sat in an arm-chair, in his shirt-sleeves, with his feet in a bucket of hot water. One of his eyes was severely in mourning, and shut tight. His nose had grown bulbous, like a prize pear, and was of a mixed color, in which patches of fiery red and deep purple alternated. One of his ears had a patch over it; and several blackand-blue places revealed themselves on his bald, and once shiny, and benevolent pate.

His right arm was done up in bandages, and carried in a sling. His lips were swollen out enormously, and in a way that brought his mouth half way around to his left ear. A long strip of courtplaster extended across his cheek.

"For God's sake, Brown, what's the matter?' I exclaimed, as I took in the fearful appearance of one whom I knew to be high up in a lodge of Good Templars that meets at the Washingtonian Home.

"Matter!" replied the bruised spectacle, in a voice that seemed to percolate through tortuous

labyrinths-" matter! you're the matter! That d—d Sunday Bullpen is what's the matter!"

"The Sunday Bullpen! What! That Christianly and poetic production the cause of such devastation and ruin as this? No, sir! Never! Never!" "Yes, The Sunday Bullpen, I tell you!"

"But-impossible!"

"Impossible, be d-d! You just listen now, and I'll tell you!"

I seated myself, and thereupon Brown proceeded to unfold the following astonishing tale: "You know I'm a great smoker. We fellows who supported Grant rather pride ourselves on imitating that marvelous leader. So, in trying to imitate that great man, I got into the habit of smoking about twenty-five cigars a day.

"Mrs. Brown, of course, didn't like it. She turned up her nose whenever I pulled out a cigar. Sometimes it made her sick, and then it made her faint. But I noticed one thing, my boy, and that was, that when Jinks or Jobbers came in with a cigar, she always said she was so fond of cigars.

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Well, the old woman got sick, and faint, and sniffed around the curtains, and said 'faugh!' every time she came near me; and I made up my mind it was no use. You can always do the same. When a woman gets after you, you may just as well come down. She'll fetch you in time, see if she don't. A woman will just outworry the devil, when she gets started after any thing.

"Last Sunday morning one of the boy's read The Sunday Bullpen-dern the infernal sheet! Among other things, he read an article on tobacco, by some M. D. of the name of Johnson, or Jackson. Here's the paper. You look along towards the last of that

tobacco article, and read what he says about an antidote to smoking.'

Looking through the article in question, I found and read the following:

"I would suggest, however, to those desiring to break the habit, the following prescription: Take, in the morning, about three drachms of whisky, and smoke none; in the afternoon repeat the dose; continue this three weeks: and if the habit of smoking be not broken, I have missed my mark. You will, probably, always like the flavor of a good cigar; but, with some firmness, you can easily overcome the desire. The tobacco being withdrawn, the whisky substitutes itself and dissipates the desire to smoke."

"Yes, that's it," said Brown. "The old woman had been worryin' me, and I made up my mind I might as well quit. The remedy didn't seem a bad one to take. By and by I slipped out, went round to a corner saloon, and took the prescription of three drams, at intervals of about ten minutes.

"The thing worked beautiful. I didn't want to smoke, but I did want another dram, and I took another. This made me kind o' thirsty, and so I took one more. By this time I felt very sorry for some seedy chaps sittin' around the stove, and I invited 'em all to take a drink. I afterwards took a drink, at my expense, with the bar-keeper, who seemed a mighty nice sort of a man.

"I don't remember very clearly what happened after this. I think I proposed to a chap with a big moustache to go and take a buggy-ride up The Avenue. I think somebody got a buggy, and we got in, after taking another dram to keep me from wanting to smoke in public.

"They say that I acted like one wild on The Avenue. Every body was going to church, it seems, and I

must have played the very thunder! All I remember about it is, that last night, about seven o'clock, I waked up and found myself in the sawdust in the armory. My hat was gone; my coat was torn in two, up the back; my shirt-front ripped into rib bons; both pockets turned inside out; my money gone; and myself the bruised and broken reed which you see before you.

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"I won't stop to tell you of my frightful horror during the night. This morning I was thrust into a hole called a bull-pen,' with about seventy-five of the worst looking he and she loafers in Chicago. I spare you my agony upon being called out in full view of the justice, police, reporters, and public. was accused of disorderly conduct. Seven policemen swore that they had chased me for over three hours. They said I drove over four children, and dogs without number; that I lost my hat, and went bareheaded, giving an Indian war-whoop every fifteen seconds; that several runaways occurred in consequence of my furious driving and yelling; and that, when finally caught, I fought and kicked so that they had to club me severely before I would submit and go to the lock-up.

"I was fined $100, and was called a hardened reprobate by the corpulent old hypocrite who tried me. I gave him a check for the amount, which a policeman went out with, and when he came back, I was released.

"You see, all this happened on account of that infernal Sunday Bullpen. I want you to go to the office and stop the cursed thing. If I ever can find that fellow Johnson, or Jackson, I'll mellow his countenance just as sure as my name's Timothy Brown