_Daughter._ If the heat is in the wood and the coal, mother, why do we not feel it in them? They both feel cold. I cannot perceive any heat in them.

_Mother._ The heat is in the wood and the coal, although you do not see it. Do you see any smoke in the wood and the coal, my dear?

_Daughter._ No, mother, I do not.

_Mother._ Did you never see a stick of wood fall on the hearth from the kitchen fire, and see the smoke coming from it?

[Ill.u.s.tration]

_Daughter._ O yes, mother, very often; and the smoke goes all over the room, and into my eyes, and makes the tears come into my eyes.

_Mother._ And can you see the smoke in the wood before the wood is put on the fire?

_Daughter._ No, mother, I am sure I cannot.

_Mother._ But you are sure that the smoke comes from the wood, are you not?

_Daughter._ O yes, mother; I see it coming right out of the wood.

_Mother._ Then, my dear, I suppose you know that if there is something in the wood and coal, which you call _smoke_, although you cannot see it until it comes out, you can easily conceive how another thing, which we call _heat_, can be in the wood and coal, which we cannot perceive until it is made to come out.

_Daughter._ O yes, mother; how wonderful it is!

_Mother._ Yes, my dear, all the works of G.o.d are wonderful; and what is very surprising is, that many of his most wonderful works are so common, so continually before our eyes, that we do not deem them wonderful until we have been made to think much about them, by talking about them, as you and I have talked about the rain, and the clouds, and light, and its colors.

_Daughter._ I have been thinking, mother, about Alice and the fire. You told me that the fire did not _make_ the heat, any more than I _make_ the little mouse or the bird when I open the cage door and let them out.

I see now how it is. Alice brings the wood and the coal into the kitchen fireplace, and the match lets the heat out of the shavings, and the shavings let it out of the wood and the coal, until we get heat enough to make us warm.

_Mother._ Yes, my dear; and there is no more heat in the room after the fire is made than there was before,--only, before the fire was made, the heat was hid, and we could not perceive it; but when the fire is made, it makes the heat come out, and makes it free, just as I make the little bird free, by opening his cage door.

LESSON XIX.

_The Lark and her Young Ones._--Altered from aeSOP.

1. A lark having built her nest in a corn-field, the corn grew ripe before the young ones were able to fly. Fearing that the reapers would come to cut down the corn before she had provided a safe place for her little ones, she directed them every day, when she went out to obtain their food, to listen to what the farmers should say about reaping the corn.

2. The little birds promised their mother that they would listen very attentively, and inform her of every word they should hear.

3. She then went abroad; and on her return, the little birds said to their mother, Mother, you must take us away from here; for while you were gone we heard the farmer tell his sons to go and ask some of his neighbors to come to-morrow morning early, and help them cut down the corn.

4. Is that what he said? asked their mother. Yes, mother, said the little birds; and we are very much afraid that you cannot find a safe place for us before the farmer and his neighbors begin to cut down the corn.

5. Do not be afraid, my children, said the lark; if the former depends on his neighbors to do his work for him, we shall be safe where we are.

So lie down in the nest, and give yourselves no uneasiness.

6. The next day, when the mother went out for food, she directed the little ones again to listen, and to tell her all that they should hear.

7. In the evening, when she returned, the little ones told her that the farmer's neighbors did not come to a.s.sist him on that day; and that the farmer had told his sons to go and request his friends and relations to come and a.s.sist him to cut down the corn, early in the next day morning.

8. I think, my children, said the lark, we shall still be safe here; and we will, therefore, feel no anxiety or concern to-night.

9. On the third day, the mother again charged the young larks to give her a faithful report of what was done and said, while she was absent.

10. When the old lark returned that evening, the little larks told her that the farmer had been there, with his sons, early in the morning; but, as his friends and relations had not come to a.s.sist him, he had directed his sons to bring some sharp sickles early in the next morning, and that, with their a.s.sistance, he should reap the corn himself.

11. Ah! said the mother, did he say so? Then it is time for us to prepare to be gone; for when a man begins to think seriously of doing his work himself, there is some prospect that it will be done; but if he depends on his friends, his neighbors, or his relations, no one can tell when his work will be done.

12. Now, this little story is called a Fable. It cannot be true, because birds do not and cannot speak.

13. But, although it is not true, it is a very useful little story, because it teaches us a valuable lesson: and that is, that it is best to do our own work ourselves, rather than to depend upon others to do it for us; for, if we depend upon them, they may disappoint us, but whatever we determine to do for ourselves, we can easily accomplish, if we go right to work about it.

LESSON XX.

_Dogs._--ORIGINAL.

1. I never knew a little boy that was not fond of a dog, and I have never seen many dogs which were not fond of little children.

2. It is not safe for little children to touch every strange dog that they see, because some dogs are naturally rather cross, and may possibly bite any one who touches them, when they do not know the persons.

3. But when a dog knows any one, and sees that his master is fond of that person, he will let such a person play with him. He is always pleased with any attentions that his master's friends bestow on him.

4. Large dogs are generally more gentle than small ones, and seldom bark so much as the little ones do. They are also more easily taught to carry bundles and baskets, and draw little carriages for children to ride in.

5. Some people are very much afraid of dogs, because they sometimes run mad. The bite of a mad dog produces a very dreadful disease, called _Hydropho'bia_.

6. This is a long and hard word, and means _a fear of water_. It is called by that name because the person who has the disease cannot bear to touch or to see water.

7. Dogs that are mad cannot bear to see water. They run from it with dreadful cries, and seem to be in very great distress.

8. Whenever, therefore, a dog will drink water, it is a pretty sure sign that he is not mad.

9. This dreadful disease very seldom affects dogs that are properly supplied with water.

10. Dogs require a great deal of water. They do not always want much at a time, and it is seldom that they drink much. But whoever keeps a dog ought always to keep water in such a place that the dog may go to it to drink, whenever he requires it.

11. A dog is a very affectionate animal, and he will permit his master, and his master's children and friends, to do a great many things to him, which he would perhaps bite others for doing.

12. There are many very interesting stories told of dogs, which show their love and fidelity to their masters, which you can read in a book called "Anecdotes of Dogs."

13. But there are a few little stories about dogs that I know, which I will tell you, that are not contained in that book. I know these stories to be true.