_Daughter._ Well, mother, I understand, now, how the match is set on
fire. It is rubbed on the sand-paper, and that produces heat, and the
heat sets the match on fire. But I always thought that fire makes heat,
and not that heat makes fire.

_Mother._ Heat does not always make fire, Caroline; for, if it did,
everything would be on fire.

_Daughter._ Everything on fire, mother! why, what do you mean?

_Mother._ I mean, my dear, that everything contains heat.

_Daughter._ Everything contains heat, mother, did you say? Why, then, is
not everything warm? Some things, mother, are very cold; as ice, and
snow, and that marble slab.

_Mother._ Yes, my child, everything contains heat, as I shall presently
show you. When Alice goes to make a fire in a cold day, she does not
carry the heat with her, and put it into the fire, nor into the wood,
nor the coal, does she?

_Daughter._ Why, no, to be sure not, mother.

_Mother._ And the heat that comes from the fire, after it is made, does
not come in at the windows, nor down the chimney, does it?

_Daughter._ Why, no, mother; it feels cold at the windows, and cold air
comes down the chimney.

_Mother._ But, after the fire is made, we feel much heat coming from the
fire, do we not?

_Daughter._ Why, yes, mother; that is what the fire is made for. We feel
cold, and we want a fire to make us warm; and when the fire is made, it
sends out heat, and makes us warm.

_Mother._ Well, now, where can the heat come from? You know what fire is
made from, do you not?

_Daughter._ Certainly, mother; the fire is made of wood, or of coal.

_Mother._ But is the wood or the coal warm before the fire is made?

_Daughter._ No, mother, the wood and the coal come from the cold
wood-house, or the cellar, and they are both very cold.

_Mother._ And yet, the wood and the coal become very hot when they are
on fire.

_Daughter._ O yes, mother, so hot that we cannot touch them with our
hands, and we have to take the shovel or the tongs to move them.

_Mother._ And do they burn the shovel and the tongs, my dear?

_Daughter._ Why, no, mother; if they did, the shovel and the tongs would
be of little use in stirring the fire.

_Mother._ Can you think of any reason why they do not burn the shovel
and the tongs?

_Daughter._ You told me, mother, that some things require a very little
heat to set them on fire, and that other things require a great deal. I
suppose that there was not heat enough