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?

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.