than Liverman's ice-house. The perspiration fairly fried out of a tin
water cooler in the next room. We opened the doors, and snow began to melt
as far up Vine street as Hanscombe's house, and people all round the
neighborhood put on linen clothes. And we couldn't stop the confounded
thing.

We forgot what Jones told us about the dampers, and she kept a
biling. The only thing we could do was to go to bed, and leave the thing
to burn the house up if it wanted to. We stood off with a pole and turned
the damper every way, and at every turn she just sent out heat enough to
roast an ox. We went to bed, supposing that the coal would eventually burn
out, but about 12 o'clock the whole family had to get up and sit on the
fence.

[Illustration: TURNING THE PROPER DINGUS.]

Finally a man came along who had been brought up among coal stoves, and he
put a wet blanket over him and crept up to the stove and turned the proper
dingus, and she cooled off, and since that time has been just as
comfortable as possible. If you buy a coal stove you got to learn how to
engineer it, or you may get roasted.


PECK'S BAD BOY AND HIS PA.


HIS PA IS DISCOURAGED.

"Say, you leave here mighty quick," said the grocery man to the bad boy,
as he came in, with his arm in a sling, and backed up against the stove to