_Mother._ You recollect that I told you that the rubbing of the match on the sand-paper produces a little heat, which caused the match to burn. The match was then applied to the shavings, and, as it was burning, gave out heat enough to set the shavings on fire; the shavings produced heat enough to set the pine wood, or kindling, on fire, and then the pine wood, or kindling, produced more heat, and set the wood and coal on fire. 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. _Mother._ And can you see the smoke in the wood before the wood is put on the fire? _Daughter._ No, mother, I am sure I cannot. _Mother._ But you are sure that the smoke comes from the wood, are you not? _Daughter._ O yes, mother; I see it coming right out of the wood. _Mother._ Then, my dear, I suppose you know that if there is something in the wood and coal, which you call _smoke_, although you cannot see it until it comes out, you can easily conceive how another thing, which we call _heat_, can be in the wood and coal, which we cannot perceive until it is made to come out. _Daughter._ O yes, mother; how wonderful it is! _Mother._ Yes, my dear, all the works of God are wonderful; and what is very surprising is, that many of his most wonderful works are so common, so continually before our eyes, that we do not deem them wonderful until we have been made to think much about them, by talking about them, as you and I have talked about the rain, and the clouds, and light, and its colors.