and enough came out for breakfast, when there was put into
the oven a pot of Indian pudding, which was left with the
rest of the beans for the Sunday dinner.

The parlor fire was a very beautiful sight, with the big
logs and the sparkling walnut or oak wood blazing up. Some
of the housekeepers of that time had a good deal of skill
in arranging the wood in a fireplace so as to make of it
a beautiful piece of architecture. Lowell describes these
old fires very well in his ballad, "The Courtin'":

A fireplace filled the room's one side
With half a cord o'wood in--
There warn't no stoves (till comfort died)
To bake ye to a puddin'.

The wannut logs shot sparkles out
Towards the pootiest, bless her!
An' leetle flames danced all about
The chiny on the dresser.

Agin' the chimbley crooknecks hung,
An' in amongst 'em rusted
The old queen's arm thet Gran'ther Young
Fetched back from Concord busted.

We did not have fireplaces quite as large as this in my father's
house, although they were common in the farmers' houses round
about.

In the coldest weather the heat did not come out a great
way from the hearth, and the whole family gathered close
about the fire to keep warm. It was regarded as a great
breach of good manners to go between any person and the fire.
The fireplace was the centre of the household, and was regarded
as the type and symbol of the home. The boys all understood
the force of the line:

Strike for your altars and your fires!

I wonder if any of my readers nowadays would be stirred by
an appeal to strike for his furnace or his air-tight stove.

Sunday was kept with Jewish strictness. The boys were not
allowed to go out-of-doors except to church. They could
not play at any game or talk about matters not pertaining
to religion. They were not permitted to read any books except
such as were "good for Sunday." There were very few religious
story-books in those days, and what we had were of a dreary
kind; so the boy's time hung heavy on his hands.

"Pilgrim's Progress," with its rude prints, was, however,
a great resource. We conned it over and over again, and knew
it by heart. An elder brother of mine who was very precocious
was extremely fond of it, especially of the picture of the
fight between Apollyon and Christian, where the fiend with
his head covered with stiff, sharp bristles "straddled clear
across the road," to stop Christian in his way. Old Dr. Lyman