Nowadays, in mine house slow combustion grates and stoves reign supreme. By their use much of the picturesqueness of our fires is done away with, but a wonderful economy in the coal-bill effected. This is not the case, however, if our particular Mary Jane be allowed to make and mend at her own sweet will. The “Eagle Range” is quite as omnivorous as its namesake if cook keeps every damper out and every cross-door shut. Unless she cleans each flue scrupulously, the “Eagle” and its ilk will only consume lumps of best Orrell—and consume them much faster than an open fireplace would do.
In mine house the first lesson taught a new maid is how to lay and light a fire. Scientifically done, it takes far less kindling wood and far fewer matches than when built up at haphazard. There are two methods of laying a fire. A range or stove must burn from the bottom upwards; the open grate may be ignited on the top.
We will consider our drawing-room fire first. See that every bit of ancient fire is raked away and every cinder riddled on the spot through a 6d. wire-shovel. The meshes of this instrument are wide apart, so only the large cinders are retained by its use; all small morsels and dust fall through without raising a “pother,” and may be sifted afterwards. Now fit a sheet of brown paper across the lower bars and lay over it some lumps of clean round coal. On the top of these empty your cinders, and over them again place wood and bits of crumpled paper in the order named. One match applied to this topmost layer will ignite the tissue, and very slowly it will burn downwards until the Orrell be reached.
This glowing mass must on no account be poked. In fact, if this mode of lighting our sitting-room fires be adopted, sets of fire-irons should be conspicuous by their absence. A very distinct saving is effected by this; first we are spared initial cost of purchase, and afterwards constant extravagant use of the poker is avoided.
Some folk seem to think that flames alone give heat. Now, as a matter of fact, it is the glowing mass which most quickly warms a room. Others talk of “the cheerful blaze.” In mine house we esteem the red heart far more beautiful. As a matter of fact, in mine house, which boasts of ten grates, only two pokers are en evidence. Yet last winter our next door neighbour—who burned double the quantity of coal—complained she could not get her parlour to register 60°, whilst my sitting-room pumped up to and maintained 70° without any difficulty.
There are two ways of minimising the consumption of coal in our modern grates—either get a firebrick to fill up the back thereof and burn only a frontage of bottled sunshine, or leave it as the builder intended and after drawing every bit of round coal to the front bars and seen them well alight, pack the cavity behind with a bucket of well-damped “slack” or coal-dust. This mass will gradually heat and ignite all through and throw out a heat never attained by the ordinary lump fire.
The very best Orrell slack is like small coal, and costs only from 6d. to 8d. a sack as against £1 1s. a ton for bright coal. A fire made up after this economical plan will burn from morning till night without attention. Then, breaking up the solid cake, a bright cheerful result is gained for the hours of twilight and night. Such a fire, too, is invaluable in a sick room—requiring no noisy repairing when sleep ought to reign.
In mine house the kitchen range is scientifically treated also and consumes every bit of refuse.
I allow neither ashpit, pigbucket, or dustbin at the back door. Such extravagant conveniences should never be tolerated where economy in fuel is an object. Even if we have no poultry or porcine animal to devour potato peels, vegetable parings, or scraps of meat, our kitchen range can have its omnivorous mouth filled daily with such. Of course every house mother knows that when cooking is being done, a clear good fire is necessary.
Mary Jane may during those halcyon hours pile on the best coal and be allowed liberally to “rake” it with a heavy poker, otherwise she will send up flabby pastry, raw potatoes, and half-cooked beef. But directly the midday meal be over, every scrap of green stuff, cabbage stalks, every bone—fish or flesh—is laid on the glowing embers of the range in mine house. A layer of wet coal-dust is added, the iron rings are put in place, the door is shut, and all dampers are pulled out. Thus, sans odeur, those atoms of waste food are consumed which, left to lie on an ashpit, would infallibly breed fever of all sorts.