Year: 1871

A MERE touch of fame and then it
goes, on the hearth, first mere fringe of
flame on the edge of dense smoke, but in
a minute the smoke is gone, and the flame
is running merrily through every crevice
of the wood. This is the fire in its amia-
BILE mood.


Sometimes it sulks. 1t will not be coax
ed. The whole house is cold. The
shivering children are crying. The wood
is green. There are no kindlings. The
poor widowed mother lays the green oak
wood upon the few gathered embers, and
STOPPING to the Goals, blows with her own
scant breath, to bring the fire to fame.
The sickly blaze hovers minute, seems
not to like the prospect, and vanishes
All, the cold winter mornings in the
houses of the poorI Like all other things,
fire seems to be docile to those who have
enough, and fractions to all who suffer
lack.


But what a generous and frank way a
good fire of wood-the royal hickory
hasI The space above is all flame; the
space below, solid Goals of fire; while the
middle space is filled with a net-word of
brilliant effects, on which one might gaze
for hours with delight. We do not under
value the artificial fireworks, and enjoy as
much as any other boy of our years the
grand displays of emulous pyrotechnists.
But, after all, there is more homely pleas
ure in gazing into transmutations, the
figures in the Goals, the showers of sparks,
the coquetting flames, that wink and blink
along the edges of the fire, than in all the
transient glory of wheels and rockets. A
fire is so domesticl 1t is so obliging, so
benevolent, so obedient, so open-heartedi


Don't trust to Appearances! The maid
has just carried forth a bucket of ashes.
Only yesterday you said to the husband,
Be sure and bring home an iron pail for
ashes. Bndgethas nothing but the wooden
pail" It was forgotten. The ashes were
cold. There was no fire-at least only a
mere spark. That lay near the wooden
bottom. 1t got hold of the wood. 1t was
not in haste. A whole hour it was in per
suading the wood to partnership. Little
by little it ate through to the air. Then it
took courage, got out upon the floor, ran
into the base board, and crept up the par
tition. All night it mined and wrought !;
and too late, when the outcry was raised, it
had gained victory. Down went the
roof Down went the walls. Away went
the small household treasures.


If thou art poor, here is a five-years'
blow. 1t may be a setback for life. If
thou art rich, money will rebuild. Yet
there are some things that money cannot
90. II cannot make CrdQl6 III WHICH
your children laid 1t cannot bring back
the little couch on which your boy lay di-
vinely beautiful before the dust returned
to DUST 1t cannot give you back the lit
tie So,foenirs of friendship, nor the pic
lures that you have looked at in Joy and
in sorrow, till they seemed to became part
ners of your inward life. A home is not
built by money, but by the heart. Money
can build ahouse, but where is your home
What will bring back from the ashes the
sacred associations of sorrow, hope, wor-
ship, courage and love?


We once heard plain man express his
feelings when he stood over against his
house and saw it burning. "Just as soon
as l knew that everything was out of it, /
didn't care a farthing. just slapped my
hands, and said See her burn! She burns
as well as any rich mans housep But
when I saw the blaze shoot through the
bedroom, and thought Of how the chill
dren's cradle was there, and of how many
times I'd kneeled down there in prayer,
couldn't help it, the tears would Gomez
There was generous touch of nature.
Better be insured Better yet, don't let
| your house burnl There are some things
| in every house that no insurance can
cover-H W. Beecher