PERSIAN STOVES.
I've just heard of the queer way the Persians have of keeping themselves warm in their houses during cold weather. They place in the middle of the room a pan of burning charcoal under a sort of table or frame which holds up a large wadded quilt that reaches the floor on all sides, like a tent. This must look almost like keeping the fire warm. Then the family sit around the droll stove, with their legs and arms under the quilt; and when they wish to go to sleep, they put themselves half under the quilt, and so keep nice and warm until the morning. That's easy enough for Persians to do, because, as I'm told, they never undress at night, but just roll themselves in coverings and lie down anywhere.
Perhaps you would not find such arrangements in your homes quite as comfortable as soft beds and cozy blankets in well-warmed rooms. However, the Persian winter is not as cold as ours, I suppose.
LIGHT THROUGH METAL.
Here's an odd thing! My wise old wide-awake friend the owl tells me that a Yale College professor has found out a way to make a layer of metal so thin that it will readily show the color of a light-beam sent through it. That professor will be showing us how to see through a mill-stone next, may be.
GOOD AS AN EXPERIMENT.
Dear Jack: I have a little friend, called Jack, too, who is generally the most sweet-tempered boy I know. But one day he came to play in my rooms, as usual, for I always keep his toys there, in repair and order. He soon grew tired of them, and came to me for a story. I was busy with reading, and refused, telling him to wait until I had leisure. Then he grew impatient, and put my book down with a coaxing "Please, Fred." I could not humor him then, and gently told him to stop. Then—I am sorry to say it—he became very angry, and gave me a blow in my face. Now, Jack, don't pass your sentence yet—remember, it was the first and only act of that kind. But guess what I did.
I stooped over him and kissed him, saying: "Is this my little boy?" He looked at me and went into a corner—ashamed and weeping. Was not that a sweet victory? I wish some little sisters or brothers would try it. You may believe me this is truth. Some future day I will tell you how I made him some toys.—Yours,
Fred.