shaken for stray bits, and this together with the sittings is mixed
with potter's clay and sawdust, which latter has become a most
appreciable possession in our day. The whole is then stirred together
and made into bricks or balls, which though they burn slowly, burn
surely.

The residue of this combustible is still so precious, that when
gathered up, ground anew with paper and sawdust, and at length
amalgamated with a mucilaginous water composed of soaked flax-seed, one
finally obtains a kind of pulp that one tries vainly to make ignite,
but which obstinately refuses to do so, though examples to the contrary
have been heard of.

The fireless cooker has opened new horizons, for, of course, there is
still enough gas to start the heating. But none but the wealthy can
afford such extravagance, so each one has invented his own model. My
concierge's husband is renowned for his ingenuity in this particular
branch, and people from the other side of the Isle St. Louis, or the
rue St. Antoine take the time to come and ask his advice. It seems to
me he can make fireless cookers out of almost anything. Antiquated
wood chests, hat boxes, and even top hats themselves have been utilised
in his constructions.

"These are real savings-banks for heat"--he explains pompously--for he
loves to tackle the difficult--even adjectively. His shiny bald pate
is scarce covered by a Belgian fatigue cap, whose tassel bobs in the
old man's eyes, and when he carried his long treasured gold to the
bank, he refused to take its equivalent in notes. It was necessary to
have recourse to the principal cashier, who assured him that if France
needed money she would call upon him first. Then and then only would
he consent to accept.

He is a Lorrainer--a true Frenchman, who in the midst of all the
sorrows brought on by the conflict, has known two real joys: the first
when his son was promoted and made lieutenant on the battle field; the
second when his friends the Vidalenc and the Lemots made up a quarrel
that had lasted over twelve years.

"I was in a very embarrassing position," he explained, "for I held both
families in equal esteem. Fortunately the war came and settled
matters. When I say fortunately, of course, you understand, Madame,
what I mean. '_A quelquechose malheur est bon_.'"

And in truth the original cause of difference between the Lemots,
drapers, and the Vidalenc, coal and wood dealers, had been lost in the
depths of time