It was a cold day. Fred was tired of reading, tired of looking
out of the window, and so he poked the fire for a change.
"I suppose there are a good many different sorts of fires," he
said to his mamma, as he laid down the poker.
"Yes, indeed," she answered. "It is very interesting to know how
people keep warm in all parts of the world, especially where fuel
is scarce and dear. In Iceland, for example, fires are often made
of fish-bones! Think of that. In Holland and other countries a
kind of turf called peat is dug up in great quantities and used
for fuel. And in France a coarse yellow and brown sea-weed, which
is found in Finistere, is carefully dried and piled up for winter
use. A false log, resembling wood, but made of some composition
which does not consume, is often used in that country. It absorbs
and throws out the heat, and adds to the looks of the hearth and
to the comfort of the room.
"The French have also a movable stove, which can be wheeled from
room to room, or even carried up or down stairs while full of
burning coke. In Russia the poorer people use a large porcelain
stove, flat on top like a great table, with a small fire inside
which gives out a gentle, summer-like warmth. It often serves
as a bed for the whole family, who sleep on top of it.
"There are, besides gas-stoves, oil-stoves, various methods of
obtaining warmth by heated air and steam, and, doubtless, other
devices that I never heard of.
"In some countries, however, no fires are needed. In looking at
pictures of tropical towns you will at once notice the absence of
chimneys."
Fred looked admiringly at his mamma as she paused.
"There never was such a little mother," he said; "you can think
of something to say about everything."
His mamma was pleased at this pleasant compliment.
"Oh!" she replied, laughing, "I could go on and tell you more
about bonfires, beacon-fires, signals, drift-wood fires, and
gypsy-tea fires; but I have told you enough for to-day."