and the preponderance of pines, loaded to the end
of every leaf and twig with pitch and resin, affords uncommon food for
fire.'

Then as to the cause; he considered it could never be spontaneous
combustion, but always accident, unless, indeed, in an exceptional case
like the present, said Mr. Holt _sotto voce_. Settlers, burning brush
heaps, or logging, sometimes permit the flame to run along the ground
into the bush; and in dry weather entrance was sufficient. The boundary
fences of farms were often consumed in this way, and more extensive
mischief might follow.

For days the charred chaos of timber poles and fallen trunks gave forth
such heat and flickering flames as to be unapproachable. Zack's Yankee
brain had a scheme for utilizing the ashes, if only he had machinery big
enough for converting all into potash and pearlash. This man was old Mr.
Wynn's special aversion. There was indeed little in common between the
well-bred European gentleman, who always, even in these poor circumstances,
wore the whitest linen (he never knew how Linda toiled over those neat
shirt-fronts and ruffles), and kept up the _convenances_ of society in
the bush, and had a well-educated range of thought--between all this and
the Yankee storekeeper, who wore no linen at all, nor had the faintest
idea of the usages of the polite world, nor an idea which might not be
paralleled in the mental experience of a rat in a barn. 'Get' and
'grasp' were the twin grooves of his life.

Unconscious of the antipathy, Zack would saunter up to Cedar Creek
sometimes of an evening, and, if not intercepted, would march straight
into the parlour where the ladies sat, and fix his feet on the wooden
chimney-piece, discharging tobacco juice at intervals into the fire
with unerring labial aim. Mr. Wynn's anger at the intrusion signified
nothing, nor could a repellent manner be understood by Zack without some
overt act, which a strained respect for hospitality prevented on the
part of the old gentleman.

'Well, Robert, how you could permit that man to walk with you for the
last half-hour I do not know.' Mr. Wynn stood on the threshold, looking
a complete contrast to the shuffling, retreating figure of the lank
Yankee striding over to the road.

'I assure you it is not for the pleasure I take in his society, sir; but
he gives me useful hints. We were talking just now of potash, and I
showed him my new rail-fences; he has rather put me out of conceit with
my week's