Iron County register. [volume] (Ironton, Iron County, Mo.) 1867-1965, 1880-03-11
THE TEA-kETTLE LIGHT,

THE TEA-KETTLE LIGHT.
We extract from the March st. Nicholas
part OF story of Il country boy who started
gas factory by himself. His name was Joe,
and he lived in New Hampshire. One win
ter, he earnestly wished to attend school
but this seemed impossible, for his spare
time would all be taken up in splitting shin
giles. He tried, but in vain, to do the split
ting by fire-light. Lamp, he had none; can
dies were too dear; he must have something
else. Weeks before, he had been surprised
at a strange light flaming high above a
charming heap Of birch wood. He found that
this was caused by the burning of gas which
came from the birch-bark. Why could he
not get more of the same light, split his shin
giles by it, and time for the winter
schooling? He resolved to try; mysterious
ty told his brothers and sisters that he was
going to stop the cracks in certain old tea
kettle, land disappeared into the wood shed. !
Lois called after him that if he didn' t
"grease his tea-kettle well, it would
stick.''
"He's going to make a tea-kettle
dumpling!" shouted Deborah.
But Joe, out in the cold wood-shed,
kept plastering dough over the cracks
in the tea-kettle. This well done, he
began cutting into small pieces the
birch-bark he had saved, SO that it could
be crowded closely into the tea-kettle.
By the time he had filled it, supper was
called, and Joe, gong in, set his patched
contrivance close by the fire.
"Wel1, Joe,'' laughed his mother,
"what now? Are you going to turn
blacksmith or baker?' a.
"Joe, joe" piped Moses, evil you
be blacksmith or blacksmith, mother
saysP''
90, am shingle-splitter, said Joe,
smiling back. ''And I'd like to be a
Gghtsmith, too, pretty well, if could >
After supper was cleared away, and
the big kettle was taken off the crane,
Joe hung on his tea-kettle, bread dough,
birch-bark, and all, swung it over the
his operations.
"What is it, anyhow, Joe?" asked
Moses.
"Why, don't you see! It's an old
tea-kettle.''
"What you dot in it?' piped little
Judith.
Birch-bark, sis,'' responded Joe,
laconically.
Maple-bark is best to make ink of;
isn't it, mother?" queried Debby.
eyes, indeed, Joe, and you don't
have to burn it-only steep it, and put
in little oopperas.''
81 am not trying so make ink,
mother" Joe answered, "though must
make some before long"
Then turning to his father, he said:
"You remember how the coal-pit we
burned last week got bewitched,'
don't your Well, think it must have
been the green birch-bark, which don't
suppose ever before got piled into a
coal-pit, that caused the light somehow,
though don't know exactly how; and
I am trying to see if birch-bark won't
make light here as well as there"
Joe spoke with a deprecating tone,
for he knew his fathers violent antipathy
toward all &c new-fangled notions"
"Well, you are Ounce, to be sure.
Don't you know that if birch-bark had
been good for any thing but torch,
somebody would have found it out
before thisa Young folks, nowadays,
think they know more than their fathers.
1t wasn't so when I was boy. You'd
better just put that tea-kettle out OF the
way and go to work"
The keynote had been struck by his
father, and every voice in the household
Joined in making fun of him and his
cracked kettle. Joe was irritated, of
course, but was SO full Of his new idea
that he hadn't time to get angry, and
he comforted himself with the belief
that it might be his turn to laugh before
long. Yet he knew he never would
hear the last of it If his experiment
failed. He watched it very anxiously.
At last, his father imperatively ordered
him to take his kettle away; but he
was so earnest in his pleading for time
to give his idea fair trial that his
mother interposed out of pity, and his