Now, there was nothing to produce the heat but the match, the
shavings, the wood and the coal; and _the heat must have been in them_.
The fire only served to set it free, and let it come out of the match,
the wood, and the coal.
_Daughter._ But, mother, how did the heat get into the wood and coal?
_Mother._ It is not known, my dear, how the heat _got into_ the wood and
coal, any more than how the fruit gets on to a tree. We say that it
grows on the tree; but what growing is, and how it is caused, are among
the secrets of God.
_Daughter._ If the heat is in the wood and the coal, mother, why do we
not feel it in them? They both feel cold. I cannot perceive any heat in
them.
_Mother._ The heat is in the wood and the coal, although you do not see
it. Do you see any smoke in the wood and the coal, my dear?
_Daughter._ No, mother, I do not.
_Mother._ Did you never see a stick of wood fall on the hearth from the
kitchen fire, and see the smoke coming from it?
[Illustration]
_Daughter._ O yes, mother, very often; and the smoke goes all over the
room, and into my eyes, and makes the tears come into my eyes.
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