The woodchuck's house has two
or three doors; and the squirrel's dwelling is provided with a good
bed and a convenient storehouse for nuts and acorns. The sportive
otters have a toboggan slide in front of their residence; and the
moose in winter make a "yard," where they can take exercise
comfortably and find shelter for sleep. But there is one thing
lacking in all these various dwellings,--a fireplace.
Man is the only creature that dares to light a fire and to live with
it. The reason? Because he alone has learned how to put it out.
It is true that two of his humbler friends have been converted to
fire-worship. The dog and the cat, being half-humanized, have begun
to love the fire. I suppose that a cat seldom comes so near to
feeling a true sense of affection as when she has finished her
saucer of bread and milk, and stretched herself luxuriously
underneath the kitchen stove, while her faithful mistress washes up
the dishes. As for a dog, I am sure that his admiring love for his
master is never greater than when they come in together from the
hunt, wet and tired, and the man gathers a pile of wood in front of
the tent, touches it with a tiny magic wand, and suddenly the clear,
consoling flame springs up, saying cheerfully, "Here we are, at home
in the forest; come into the warmth; rest, and eat, and sleep.
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