Part 7

He had pets of all kinds,--rabbits, guinea pigs, a dog, and a pony; but still his lonely little heart longed for a brother, some one to enjoy all his pleasures, some one to go to school with, some one to play with when his father and mother were away and only Jane was left in the kitchen.

To be sure he had books and games without number, but he soon grew tired of reading, and what good were games when there was no one to play with him?

Of course he had plenty of school friends and playmates, but on stormy days, or when he and Jane were left all alone, there were never any boys to be found,--just when he most needed them.

In spite of his dog and his pony and all his rabbits he couldn't help being a little lonely. Whenever he saw two brothers playing together, he always thought how glad he would be to exchange every one of his pets--pony and all--for a little brother, and every Christmas he wrote a letter to Santa Claus to ask for one.

On his ninth birthday his father and mother surprised him by saying that they were going to Boston. They promised to come home the next day and bring him the best birthday gift he ever had in all his life; but what this delightful gift was to be they would not tell. It was a secret, and a very good secret, too.

To tell the truth Mr. and Mrs. Houston had decided to adopt a little boy. They had been planning it for some time, but Vernon knew nothing about it. They had always been sorry for their brotherless son, and they knew how many boys there are in the world who have no home, no father and mother, no one to love them and care for them.

They had been waiting to hear of some homeless lad, who was good and honest, to take into their home and hearts, and to become the "little brother" for whom Vernon longed. At last a man telephoned from Boston that he had found just the boy they wanted, so they set off at once to bring home the birthday gift.

When they looked into Harry's bright eyes and honest face, they were not long in deciding that he was just the right boy for them.

Mrs. Houston bent and kissed him, and Mr. Houston took him by the hand, saying kindly, "Harry, how would you like to come and live with us, to be our boy, and a brother to our son, Vernon?"

Harry was too happy to say a word, but his big brown eyes answered for him, and it was not long before they were all three on their way to Greenfield.

I wish you could have seen Vernon when his father and mother arrived with the birthday gift.

"Here, my boy, is the secret,--the brother you have been waiting for so long," said Mr. Houston. "Let me introduce you to your new brother Harry. He has come to stay as long as he can be happy with you. He is only a few months younger than you are, and I don't see why you two boys can't have a good time together."

It seemed as if the boys had only to look straight into each other's eyes to become the best of friends, and if you could have watched them as the days went by, you would have thought they were as happy as children could possibly be.

Vernon brought out all his playthings and gave half of them to Harry; he showed him how to make Rags do all sorts of funny tricks; he let him feed the rabbits and the guinea-pigs; and when they went to ride, he let Harry drive the pony. How the little fellow did enjoy holding the reins and riding in a red pony-cart like those he had looked at so many times before with longing eyes.

The two boys ran races, played ball, and went to school together. Vernon never complained of being lonely, and as for Harry, he was the happiest boy you ever saw. He tried to show how grateful he was for everything that Mr. and Mrs. Houston did for him; and he resolved to study hard, to be honest and true, and never to forget to do all in his power to repay his kind friends.

The brothers had a room together with two white beds standing side by side. One night Mr. Houston came home very late and found that the boys had gone to bed, so he went to their room to bid them good-night.

He was much surprised to find both the boys reading a book, with a lighted lamp on a little stand between their beds.

"My sons," he said very seriously, "I always like to see you enjoying your books, but I cannot allow you to read after you are in bed."

"Why not, Father?" questioned Vernon.

"Because it is a dangerous thing to do," Mr. Houston replied. "You might fall asleep without blowing out the light. It is a common thing to have such an accident. Lamps are often tipped over and houses set on fire in just that way."

"But, Father," urged Vernon, "please let us finish this chapter. It will take only a few minutes longer, and it is such a good story."

"You may finish this one chapter," Mr. Houston answered. "Then you must blow out the light, and after to-night there must be no more reading in bed with a lighted lamp."

The boys meant to obey their father; but they were both very sleepy, and before the end of the chapter was reached, they were sound asleep.

It was not long before Vernon restlessly threw out his arm. His hand hit the lamp and knocked it off the table, and the oil spread over the carpet, taking fire from the burning wick.

Rags had crept into the room to sleep on his little master's bed, and the noise waked him. When he saw the blazing oil, he jumped down and ran out into the hall, barking with all his might.

Mr. and Mrs. Houston rushed upstairs and beat out the flames with heavy rugs, before the bed clothing caught fire; but the boys were terribly frightened, and no one ever had to tell them again not to read in bed with a lighted lamp. They had learned a good lesson, and little Rags had become a never-to-be-forgotten hero.

_Why was Vernon lonely?_

_What gift did he have on his ninth birthday?_

_Why did the boys set a lighted lamp on the table beside their bed?_

_How was it overturned?_

_Where was Rags? What did he do?_

_How should this fire have been avoided?_

A lamp, a lantern, or an oil-stove should not be placed where it could possibly be upset. Neither should it be blown out until the wick has been turned half-way down, as the flame might be blown into the oil, thus causing an explosion. To turn down the wick too low, however, is also dangerous.

All brass or metal work on a lamp or oil-stove should be kept clean and bright, as dirty metal retains the heat, thus causing vapor to rise from the oil, and making an explosion possible.

THE WORLD'S GREAT FIRES

Ever since men have built their houses of wood, and have crowded their dwellings together in cities, there have been terrible conflagrations, destroying, in two or three days, property which has been gathered together at a great cost of time and labor. Thousands of people have been made homeless, and fortunes have been lost in a single night.

As long ago as 65 A. D., when Nero was Emperor of Rome, more than half the city was destroyed by a great fire, and the people were obliged to flee to the hills for safety.

Constantinople has suffered eleven conflagrations, by which more than 130,000 homes have been destroyed; and in Japan, where the houses are built of bamboo and paper, fires sweep through the streets with the rapidity of the wind, burning hundreds of the little low buildings in a single hour. In fact, these fires are of such common occurrence, and are so destructive, that the Japanese people keep their valuable possessions in fireproof storehouses in their own gardens, and they often have the frame and paper walls of a new house in this "godown," ready to put together as soon as the ashes of their former dwelling are cool enough not to set another fire.

In September, 1666, the city of London was devastated by flames. The fire broke out in a baker's shop, and spread on all sides so rapidly that it could not be extinguished before two-thirds of the city had been destroyed. All the sky was illuminated by the flames, and the light could be seen for forty miles. More than a thousand houses were in flames at the same time. Night was as light as day, and the air was so hot that the people could do nothing but stand still and look on at their own ruin.

In those days there was little fire-fighting apparatus, nothing at all to be compared with our modern conveniences; and the flames, fanned by a strong east wind, swept through the narrow streets, fairly eating up the houses, which were built entirely of wood. The ruins covered 436 acres; 400 streets were laid waste, 13,200 houses were destroyed, and 200,000 persons were made homeless.

The first of the great conflagrations in our own country was the fire in Chicago in October, 1871. This fire was caused by a cow kicking over a lighted lantern in a barn; and, from this simple start, three and one-half square miles were laid waste, 200 persons were killed, 17,450 buildings were destroyed, and 98,500 persons were made homeless. The flames were fanned by a fierce gale, and spread with great rapidity, raging uncontrolled for two days and nights.

In November, 1872, the city of Boston was visited by fire. The conflagration was confined almost wholly to the business district, and while only 800 buildings were destroyed, the loss amounted to $73,000,000, and hundreds of men lost their entire fortune.

In April, 1906, San Francisco was devastated by the most terrible fire known to all history. The fire was preceded by earthquake shocks, and, with the falling walls and chimneys, fires were started in different sections of the city. The earthquake also caused the bursting of the water mains in the streets, so that it was impossible to hold the flames in check; and before they were at last extinguished the burned area was over three times greater than that of the Chicago fire, and ten times that of the Boston fire. This fire destroyed $350,000,000 worth of property, and over 300,000 persons were made homeless.

The Baltimore fire, in 1904, burned over 140 acres, and $85,000,000 worth of property was lost.

This great waste is a serious problem which confronts our country; but each one of us, by being careful, may do his share toward lessening the loss by fire.

NEW YEAR'S EVE

It was the last night of the year, and a happy little group was sitting around the supper table in the Hawleys' pleasant dining-room.

There were Mr. and Mrs. Hawley and their two children,--Leland, who was a wide-awake boy of fourteen, and Rachel, who was two years younger. Their cousins, Lawrence and Dorothy, had come to spend several weeks with them. As they were all about the same age, the four children were having a merry time together.

The Hawley homestead was in a little country town in New England; but Lawrence and Dorothy had always lived in the city of New Orleans and they knew nothing about winter and winter sports. You can imagine how much they enjoyed everything, especially the snow.

They were all laughing and chatting merrily when suddenly Mr. Hawley rose and went to the window. "I hear sleigh-bells," he said. "A sleigh is driving into our yard."

In a moment more a knock was heard at the door, and a note was handed to Mrs. Hawley telling her that her sister was very ill.

This sister lived several miles away, but Mrs. Hawley felt that she must go to her at once, so her husband decided to harness his pair of bays and drive her over.

"I am sorry to leave you, children," Mrs. Hawley said, as she tied on her bonnet. "Have just as good a time as you can, and I will trust you not to do anything that would displease me."

"I will take Mother over and return as soon as possible," said Mr. Hawley, as he tucked his wife into the sleigh. "I shall try to be home before ten o'clock; but don't sit up for me. Be good children and take care of everything."

"Perhaps my sister will be better and I can come home to-morrow," added Mrs. Hawley cheerfully. Then she kissed the children and bade them good-bye, and the horses dashed off down the road with a great jingling of bells.

The girls looked a little sober when they went back into the big empty farmhouse, but Leland tried to cheer them up. "We'll have a jolly time keeping house," he said. "What's the first thing to be done?"

"The dishes, of course," replied his sister; "there are always dishes to do, no matter what happens."

The boys cleared the table, while Rachel and Dorothy washed and wiped the dishes, and set the table for breakfast. Then they brought in some wood and built a big fire in the fireplace.

The flames went roaring up the chimney, and the children sat for a long time before the fire, watching the rings of sparks that twisted in and out on the soot-covered bricks. "Children going home from school," they called them, and the last one to burn out was the one to stay after school for a whipping.

"Let's roast some chestnuts," Leland suggested, when there was a good bed of hot ashes, and he ran up in the attic to get a bagful that he had been saving for just such an occasion.

It was fun to push the chestnuts into the fire with a long poker and then watch them pop out when they were roasted. Sometimes they flew across the room, or under the tables and chairs, and then there was a great hunt for them.

"We might wish on the chestnuts," Rachel suggested. "If they pop out on the hearth, our wish will come true, but if they fly into the fire, it won't."

"Oh, yes!" cried Lawrence; "that's just the thing to do. Girls first,--you begin, Rachel."

"No, Dorothy is my guest," replied his cousin; "she must have the first turn."

Dorothy poked her chestnut into the ashes. "I wish I might spend the whole year up here with you," she said; and when the nut popped right into her lap the other children joined hands and danced around her in a circle.

Then it was Rachel's turn, and she wished for higher marks in school than she ever had before; but the chestnut jumped into the fire and blazed up merrily.

"That's because your marks are good enough anyway," her brother told her. "What is your wish, Lawrence?"

"I wish that I might go to London in an airship," Lawrence replied.

"And I wish that I might go to the biggest circus in the world," added Leland, poking his chestnut in beside his cousin's.

One of the nuts popped into the farthest corner of the hearth, and the other burned to a little black cinder; but the boys couldn't decide whose chestnut it was that flew away, so they couldn't tell which one was to have his wish.

"I'll tell you something that is just as good as flying," said Leland. "Let's get out our bob-sled and go coasting. There's a moon to-night, and it is almost as light as day."

"I don't think we ought to leave the house," objected Rachel. "Father and Mother are both away, you know, and they told us to be careful."

"Oh, don't be a goose!" her brother replied. "The house can take care of itself."

"We ought to put out all the lamps then, and cover the fire with ashes," said thoughtful Rachel.

"Nonsense!" exclaimed Leland. "We won't be gone long. The fire is all right. There is nothing left but the back-log, and that will not burn much longer."

"I'm going to put out the lamps any way," said his sister. "I feel sure that Mother never leaves them lighted when there is no one in the house."

"Well, hurry up then," urged Leland. "You girls bundle up well, and Lawrence and I will get out the sled."

In a few minutes the boys came running up to the door with the sled, and as soon as the girls were well tucked in, they took hold of the rope and pranced off like wild horses.

There was a full moon, and they could see the road perfectly. The air was crisp and clear, and the snow shone and sparkled like diamonds.

"It seems like a winter fairyland," said Dorothy. "Let's keep watch for the fairies. They ought to come trooping across the fields dressed in pretty white furs, and dance under the trees to the music of sleigh-bells."

The sled seemed to fairly fly over the snow, and when they came to the top of the long hill, the boys jumped on and they all went coasting down, with shouts of laughter.

Up and down, up and down they went; and such fun as they did have! Of course they stayed out much longer than they meant to; but at last Rachel said, "It must be getting late. Father was coming home at ten, and he will wonder what has become of us."

The boys trotted home again more slowly, and as they came in sight of the house they saw that Mr. Hawley had already arrived before them. The rooms downstairs were brightly lighted, and when they passed the living-room windows they saw him hurrying to and fro as if he were busy about some work.

"Here we are, Father," called Leland. "We've been out coasting."

"And we've had such a good time!" added Dorothy. Then, as she entered the living-room, she exclaimed in amazement: "What is the matter, Uncle Henry? What have you been doing in here?"

Her uncle crossed the room and opened the windows. Then he took off his hat and overcoat, and wiped great beads of perspiration from his face, while the children stood in the doorway looking around at the disordered room.

"When I came home the house was on fire," he answered, "and I've had a pretty busy time for the last ten minutes. You children must have left a log burning on the hearth, and a spark flew out and set the rug on fire. Then the table and one of the chairs caught fire from the rug, and if I hadn't come home just when I did, we might not have had any home by this time."

"It was my fault, Father," spoke up Leland. "Rachel wanted to bury the log in the ashes; but I told her it wouldn't do any harm to leave it burning."

"I suppose it was partly my fault, too," said Mr. Hawley. "I've always intended to buy a wire screen for this fireplace. It is never safe to go out of the room and leave an open fire. When we go to town to-morrow to buy a new rug, we will buy a screen and a fender, too."

"And the next time we light a fire on the hearth," added Lawrence, "we'll stay at home and take care of it, even if it is a moonlight night and we do want to go coasting."

_Why did Lawrence and Dorothy enjoy the New England winter?_

_What did the children do after Mr. and Mrs. Hawley went away?_

_Why did Rachel put out the lights before leaving the house?_

_What accident happened as a result of leaving a burning log in the fireplace?_

_How could this accident have been prevented?_

It is never safe to have an open fire in a fireplace unless it is protected with a wire screen. Sparks often fly from the burning wood and set fire to rugs, draperies, and clothing, or sometimes a blazing log rolls out on to the floor.

If it is necessary to leave the fire before it is entirely burned out, the logs may be taken from the andirons and buried in the ashes. This should always be done before the fire is left for the night, as a change of wind might cause a smouldering log to become a dangerous firebrand.

CHRISTMAS CANDLES

It was Christmas Eve,--the happiest, merriest time in all the year,--and no one need look at a calendar to know it. The shop windows were full of gifts and toys of every description, and in some of the larger shops jolly old Santa Claus himself was waiting to shake hands with the boys, or pat the curly heads of the little girls.

Crowds of people were hurrying to and fro on the streets, their arms filled with packages of all shapes and sizes. Here was a man carrying a doll carriage, and a woman with a tiny wheelbarrow. There was a girl with a pair of snowshoes, and a boy with a Christmas-tree over his shoulder; but no matter how heavy were the bundles, or how crowded the streets, everyone seemed happy, and "Merry Christmas!" "Merry Christmas to you!" was heard on every side in friendly greeting.

Just enough snow had fallen to bring out the sleighs, and the jingling sleigh-bells added their merry music to the Christmas gayety. The air was clear and crisp, and beyond the city streets, with their glare of electricity, the stars shone with a clear light, just as the Star of the East shone so many centuries ago upon the little Babe of Bethlehem.

Yes, Christmas was everywhere. It shone from the stars, and from the happy faces of the children; and it made the whole world glad with the gladness of giving.

In the little town of Lindale, just as in all the other towns and cities, there was the greatest excitement. The houses were brightly lighted, people were hurrying to and fro in the streets, doors were carefully opened and closed, stockings were hung beside the chimneys, and Christmas trees were decorated with tinsel and candles and loaded with gifts for young and old.

But in the big brick church in the center of the town was the best Christmas tree of all. It stood on the floor and held its head up to the very ceiling, where a star gleamed with a golden light like the brightest star in the sky.

The branches were covered with frost that sparkled like diamonds, and under the trees were heaped big snowbanks of white cotton. Ropes of tinsel and strings of popcorn were twined in and out in long festoons, and tiny Christmas candles were set everywhere among the branches. Big dolls and little dolls peeped out through the green leaves, and here and there were Teddy bears, white rabbits, curly-haired puppies, woolly lambs, parrots on their perches, and canaries in tiny cages,--all toys, of course, but toys so wonderfully made that they looked as if they were really and truly alive.

Piled high on the banks of snow were the Christmas gifts, big packages and little ones, all in white paper tied with red and green ribbons; and when the candles were lighted the whole tree looked as if it had been brought from fairyland and set down here to make the children happy.

This tree, with all its gifts and decorations, had been arranged by the pupils and teachers of the Sunday-school for the little children of the Lindale Mission.

For two or three months these "Willing Helpers," as they called themselves, had devoted all their spare minutes to getting everything ready. They had contributed toys and games, they had earned the money for some of the gifts, they had brought tinsel and gilded nuts from home, they had strung the popcorn, and, best of all, they had spent two happy evenings decorating the tree and tying up the packages.

Now, at last, it was Christmas Eve. At seven o'clock the church bells began to peal out their merriest welcome, and from all the houses came boys and girls with their fathers and mothers, eager to enjoy the pleasure of making others happy.

The little children of the Mission school were gathered in the chapel, and when everything was ready the doors were thrown wide open and they came marching in to see the tree.

As they moved slowly up the long aisle toward their seats in the front of the church, they sang a Christmas carol, keeping time with their marching; and their childish voices made the very rafters ring with joy.

The church bells pealed out once more, and a little boy at the head of the procession jingled some sleigh-bells, while every one joined in the chorus of the song:--

"Merry, merry, merry, merry Christmas bells, Oh! sweetly, sweetly, chime; Let your happy voices on the breezes swell, This merry, merry Christmas time."

The Sunday-school pupils answered with another carol, and the superintendent made a little speech of welcome. Then, when the children were all on tiptoe with excitement, there was a loud jangling of bells in the street, a stamping of feet at the door, and in came Santa Claus himself, with his great fur coat, his long white beard, and a heavy pack on his back.

Behind him came six pages, dressed in red and white, with little packs on their backs. They ran up and down the aisles, giving bags of candy to the children, and all the while the Christmas candles burned lower and lower, the tiny flames danced and flickered, the hat wax melted and dripped from bough to bough.