“Our wasted oil unprofitably burns
Like hidden lamps in old sepulchral urns,”
but sheds round a clear shining light.
Perhaps a word or two about kindling may not be out of place in considering this subject of economy in our ingle-nooks. Our grandmother’s axiom was—
“A fire well mended
Is a fire well tended.”
But I think the making of a fire is even more important than its mending or tending. To give our maids inadequate lighting material is very false economy. Well dried, well chopped, well seasoned faggots are a necessity in mine house.
“Ash green” may be “fire-wood fit for a queen,” but it makes bad kindling. Bundles of small sticks may be bought so cheaply nowadays that we should never be without them. Unlike Hamlet, we need not “for the day be confined to fast in fires” if we provide these and a few medicated wheels for hasty work.
On the other hand Mary Jane must be impressed with the fact that twelve bundles represent twenty-four fires at the least. Half a dozen sticks laid lightly in a basket-fashion will do the same work as a whole handful lumped on together. “Waste not, want not,” is a motto much to be observed in this matter.
It is a good thing to have a regular weekly supply sent in, regulated by the number of fires in general use. For extra ones, half a dozen medicated wheels should be kept in the store press, and only given out when one is unexpectedly called for.
I cannot quit this subject of the ingle-nook in mine house without speaking a little about the summer ornamentation thereof. As I hinted before, I personally consider the best ornament of our fire-stoves to be a fire, even in August—or, at least, the makings of a fire if required.
In my best room we lift out the leaded bars and replace them with bright brass ones, filling in the space with faggots and coal and fircones. The glistening rods do not prevent our having an occasional blaze, for a rub with “Globe” polish soon polishes them after use. We do not lift away the pierced brass curb or dogs, but amongst and behind them a few pots of ferns are stood about. They do not mind the draught up the chimney (N.B.—No register is ever drawn down in mine house), and can be judiciously damped as they stand on the tiled hearth. A second suffices to shift these when a fire is called for.