SARTOR INSECTORUM. 401 



lost art of "building" an open heai'th fire. Flush 

 against the chimney' wall a great back-log la}', its heart 

 already well uncovered by the gnawing flames, whose 

 huge triangular bite was all aglow with rosy embers. 

 Hickory sticks of various sizes, laid on in delicate grada- 

 tion, were piled atop of the andirons in front of the 

 back-log. How the big fire did leap and laugh, and 

 spit and sparkle, and hiss and crackle as the flames ate 

 their way into the wood ! The bed of coals beneath 

 continually grew as splints and chunks fell off" from the 

 fore-logs, curled up into glowing color upon the hot 

 bed, and then melted away into the common mass of 

 embers. In the hearth-corner the tea kettle kept up a 

 genial sizz-z in answer to the kitten's purr, and the old- 

 fashioned brazen standards of the irons seemed from 

 their polished bulbs and rings to reflect the comfort, 

 brightness and genial warmth of the whole precincts 

 of the hearth. 



Winter snows are the true soil for the generous cul- 

 ture of home. Home life, home love, home pleasures 

 are indigenous growths in lands where the Frost King 

 claims some season for his own. How one hugs his 

 hearth-stone and feels his heart leap up with its fire- 

 flames in gladness over his well-housed loved ones, 

 when he hears the storm rattling at his window ! 



The table was wheeled in front of our fire, the lamps 

 were lit and set upon it, together with boxes of speci- 

 mens, books and the invariable folio of manilla paper 

 for illustrations. Why is it that on such occasions the 

 ladies are sure to find some pleasant and useful occupa- 



