Much trouble is experienced from fires, when the smoke does not readily get away through the chimney. Here a little thought or care will save great vexation. What makes a chimney draw is its having a stream of warmed air always passing through it. Warmed air, being lighter than cold, and, consequently, having a tendency to ascend, does, in ordinary circumstances, rise through the chimney, carrying the smoke along with it. But if the room be a close one, the air to supply this stream will be wanting, and, if obtained at all, it will be down the chimney, when, of course, it will be apt to bring back the smoke along with it. It is therefore necessary to have passages for the inlet of air equal at least to the space of the chimney. But this space might, in most circumstances, be much less than it is.

The smoke is merely coal flying away unburned.

A LUMP OF COAL.

crustaceans, animals with crust- molluscs, animals with soft bodies, like shells, like crabs.

excavations.

inter'nal, inside.

like snails.

qual'ities.

vegetable.

mammalian, that give suck to vegeta'tion.

their young.

won'derful.

A lump of coal is brought in and laid down upon the hearth in order to mend the fire. It is a thing we see every day; so we reflect very little upon it. But a piece of coal is, in reality, a thing of wonderful qualities, and of equally wonderful history.

In certain districts of Britain, as in the counties of

Durham, York, and Lancaster, in South Wales, in Lothian, Fife, and Lanarkshire, there are coal-minesthat is, large excavations dug by men in the earth, in order to obtain the coal which has been placed there by nature. Some coal-mines are many hundred feet deep. The coal itself usually lies in layers or beds, with layers of sandstone and hardened clay between. When men find a bed three or more feet thick, they dig into it, sending out the coal in lumps, or in a crumbling condition, according as it is of a hard and brilliant, or of a soft and dull, character. From the mouths of the pits, it is carried in wagons, or in canal-boats, to various parts of the country, where it is to be used.

Now, though the coal is like a black stone, and is often called a mineral, it is found to be almost wholly composed of vegetable matter, or plants which once grew on the surface of the earth. They grew there very long ago, in dense forests; died or decayed, and so became like peat-bogs; then were sunk under the sea, and covered over with beds of sand and mud, so as to be hardened into coal. It is still possible, in many pieces of coal, to trace the forms, and even the internal structure, of the plants composing it.

We not only know, from the plants composing coal, what kind of vegetation clothed the earth in those days, but from other fossils we learn what kinds of animals then lived. There were molluscs, crustaceans, and fishes in the sea, as there are now, but all of different kinds from those now existing. Scarcely any traces of land-animals are found in coal, and what are found belong to reptiles. It appears as if no mammalian animals-neither dogs, sheep, deer, horses, nor human beings-then roamed on the surface of the earth.

THE PENNY AND ITS RELATIONS.

The first time I opened my eyes and looked about me, I found myself on a long table, in a large room, with many heaps of my friends standing round me. I was lying on the top of one of these heaps, and was therefore able to look about. Where I had come from, and how I came to be there, I did not know; but one of my brothers, a good deal older than myself, much faded in colour, and with his figure now rather bent, explained it all to me. He said that I was once a piece of copper, and had lain buried deep in the ground for hundreds of years. 'Then I must have been asleep,' said I, 'for I remember nothing about it. But why am I not there still?'

'You were found by men called miners, and brought out of the earth, and put into a great furnace where the heat was strong enough to melt you.'

'Then I am very glad indeed that I was asleep, for that furnace must have been uncommonly hot; and what next?'

Into the same furnace they put a small quantity of tin, and a still smaller quantity of zinc, and when the tin and the zinc got thoroughly mixed up with you, you were taken out, and men called you bronze.'

'Then as tin, and zinc, and I seem unable any longer to live apart, we must try and be good friends with each other. What next?'

'You were then carried to a place called the mint. There you were cut, and beaten, and turned about in a great variety of ways, till you became, as you see, a pretty bright round piece of bronze.'

'But what am I called now, after all those strange

You see the bust of a

things have been done to me?' 'First, look at your head. woman stamped on you, with words stating that that represents Victoria, Queen of Britain. Just now you

happen to be lying on your tail, and therefore can't see it. But look at that of our neighbour there, who is standing on his head, and you will then know what yours is like, for they are all exactly the same. You will see a figure sitting with a queer three-pronged thing, called a trident, in her hand. On the one side of her

there is a small figure of a lighthouse, and on the other a ship in full sail. Do you observe all these?'

Yes; but what is the meaning of those figures marked below? They are one, eight, seven, two.'

'That tells the year when you came out of the Mint. The proper way to say them is "eighteen hundred and seventy-two." Now, look again, and you will see some letters. That is your own name. Read it.'

I looked, and found what my friend told me. After spelling out the words, I learned from them that I was called One Penny.

'But where am I now?' I then asked.

6

'In a bank,' he replied; and as you will probably be soon sent out into the world, I may as well tell you of the rich relations we have, so that when you meet them in your travels, you may not be surprised if they regard you, as they regarded me, and I believe all of our stock, with feelings of contempt.'

I certainly felt rather proud myself, and wondered how anybody could feel contempt for me. So I asked my friend to explain.

'You must know, then,' he began, 'that our race, the

race of coins, consists of three great families-the brown, the white, and the yellow. In each family there are several branches, some large, some small; some with many descendants, others with few. Do you see those white pieces lying at some distance from you? Those are our white relations, but they don't think much of us.'

'Why,' said I; 'some of them are certainly bigger than we are; but you do not surely mean to tell me that those tiny, pale-faced things I see over there are rich relations. They seem indeed to cast contemptuous glances in our direction, but we are far bigger than they.'

'Ah, but it is not always on its size that the value of a thing depends. Men look to the material of which their coins are made, as well as to their size. Now, my dear friend, all those white ones are made of silver, and that is what makes them so valuable. Even that tiny thing, the smallest among them, would buy as much as three of us. That is why men name it the threepenny piece. It has an elder brother, not much bigger than itself, which is worth four of us, and is therefore called a fourpenny piece. Those again standing next to it are called sixpences. They are a very thriving stock, and get their name because they are worth any six of us. Now count how many are in that heap of pennies beside you.'

Just then a man came in, and laid on the table or counter a white coin larger than any of those we had yet spoken about, and said: 'Change, please.'

heap of

The man

One of the lads in the bank took up the pennies next to me and handed them over. counted them-one, two, three, and so on up to twelve. 'All right,' he said, and went away.

'That coin which the man brought in,' continued my