The Portland daily press. [volume] (Portland, Me.) 1862-1921, 1881-12-24
lBrookiyn Eagle.l
Warming Up the House.

This" observed Mr.. Miles, as the postman
tumbled down the cellar stairs with register
ed letter, this is what call hard lines" and
the worthy gentleman fred brick into the
furnace and ratified around the outside with a
huge poker.
whats hard lines? What are you doing?'
asked the postman handing over his book and
card for signature.
Trying to keep those people upstairs warm, y
replied Mr.. Miles. "Heilo!" lie continued, as
bell over his head began to ring, there's that
fellow on the top floor again." and he opened
and slammed the door, and banged away with
the poker.
"But why don't you build fire?" demanded
the postman, looking in at the empty furnace
Mr.. Miles desisted for a r.oment and looked
over the tops of his glasses in mild indigna-
tion.
do you know the price of fuel?" he in
auired, as soon as he recovered speech. Have
yop any notion what coal costs?" and he
thumped the furnace vigorously. Build a
firei Well, guess not! If they hear me rat
ting around down here, they think there's a
big head of steam on, and when I commence
II heavs bricks they all open their windows,
Sc that load of bricks? That's my fuel for
this Winter" and Mr.. Miles poured in couple
of handfuls and began TO rake down savagely.
"Well, here, sign these anyway" suggested
the postman
.sWait minute" retorted Mr.. Miles, as an
other bell rang. That's shock headed news
paper man on the second floor. He don't
get enough to eat TO keep him warm" and
Mr. Miles fetched the furnace some prodigious
thumps and slammed in more bricks. II
plugged up the pipe in his register with carpet
o the cold air couldn't get up, and yet he's
bowling around with chill. D. that top
floor fellowl" he calculated as the first bell
tolled once more. "You just rattle the poker,
will you, while l burn some straw in his pipe.
When he smells the smoke he'll begin to
peel"
"What's that other bell?' asked the post
man, as another rang violently.
"Somebodys got company in the parlor,
replied Mr.. Miles. "Hit it couple of licks
around on the far side. That's it! Say, you
wouldn't mind raking it bit, wonld you,
while give that barrel few turns. It's full
Of stones and u sounds like putting in another
load Of coal Shake her up hard!'
"Hollol" exclaimed the postman. whats
that quarreling upstairs?"
Never mind him." replied Mr.. Miles,
that's friend of mine He comes here three
times a day with shovel aud basket and hoi-
lers for his money for putting in two hundred
tons since the first of November. I've done
him some favors and he helps me out. Don't
shake any more, you'll break the Drlcks. NOW
kick the door a compile of times while belt
with the poker It's lucky for me that this is
going TO be mild Winter"
i've got to co. said the postman. II wish
you'd sign for the letter"
"Just roll the barrel and fire bricks while /
go mp for pen, that's good fellow" plead
ed Mr.. Miles, 'and If a bell rings, hammer
around inside the furnace. Don't be afraid,
there's no CRATE there, and once in a while just
drag that shovel across the floor a couple of
times aud then kick the door. 1t sounds beau
tifnl up STAIRS
When the postman left him Mr.. Miles
thanked him for his trouble, and the last the
postman saw him he was scraping the cold air
box with hoe To give the impression of tre-
mendous draft.