OCTOBER. 251 



continued fires upon the hearth would cause the house to 

 overrun with them. Of course, too, they were thought be 

 to be venomous. The ignorance and superstition of two 

 centuries ago was something marvelous, and it is scarcely 

 less strange that until to-day even ignorance of our 

 commonest forms of life is the rule rather than the ex- 

 ception. 



Whatever the origin of salamandrine myths, they were 

 more than myth to our ancestors ; and how my grand- 

 father would laugh as he told the following, which doubt- 

 less has been told in many a hundred families in the 

 land: 



A long and bitterly cold night was succeeded by the 

 coldest day of the winter. After much hesitation, rheu- 

 matic Uncle Natty Olden, a man with not the sweetest 

 temper in the world, arose, and hurried to the forbidding- 

 looking hearth to see how the coals had kept through 

 the night. They had not kept well. From the cold gray 

 ashes a few were raked, and with numb fingers he gathered 

 them together, and endeavored to start a blaze with 

 the light kindling he had prepared the night before. 

 But the fates were against him, and the snow that drifted 

 down the chimney had dampened them. Crouching on 

 all fours, he blew upon the coals, rearranged the splinters, 

 blew again, and interlarded all with ominous grumblings. 

 He had known happier moments. At last, a flickering 

 flame shot up, and then another and another, and a cheer- 

 ful blaze was about to reward his labors. At that moment 

 there came a thundering knock at the door, and the 

 prompt " Who's there ? " brought reply from Jemmy 

 Cumberford. Knowing the voice, Uncle Natty unbarred 

 the door, and Jemmy stalked into the dimly lighted 

 kitchen and stood for a moment before the fire; then 

 seizing the piggin on the bench, he dashed the water it 

 contained upon the hearth, extinguishing every trace of 



