Some folk seem to think that flames alone give heat. Now, as a matter of fact, it is the glowing mass which most quickly warms a room. Others talk of “the cheerful blaze.” In mine house we esteem the red heart far more beautiful. As a matter of fact, in mine house, which boasts of ten grates, only two pokers are _en evidence_. Yet last winter our next door neighbour--who burned double the quantity of coal--complained she could not get her parlour to register 60°, whilst my sitting-room pumped up to and maintained 70° without any difficulty. There are two ways of minimising the consumption of coal in our modern grates--either get a firebrick to fill up the back thereof and burn only a frontage of bottled sunshine, or leave it as the builder intended and after drawing every bit of round coal to the front bars and seen them well alight, pack the cavity behind with a bucket of well-damped “slack” or coal-dust. This mass will gradually heat and ignite all through and throw out a heat never attained by the ordinary lump fire. The very best Orrell slack is like small coal, and costs only from 6d. to 8d. a sack as against £1 1s. a ton for bright coal. A fire made up after this economical plan will burn from morning till night without attention. Then, breaking up the solid cake, a bright cheerful result is gained for the hours of twilight and night. Such a fire, too, is invaluable in a sick room--requiring no noisy repairing when sleep ought to reign. In mine house the kitchen range is scientifically treated also and consumes every bit of refuse. I allow neither ashpit, pigbucket, or dustbin at the back door. Such extravagant conveniences should never be tolerated where economy in fuel is an object. Even if we have no poultry or porcine animal to devour potato peels, vegetable parings, or scraps of meat, our kitchen range can have its omnivorous mouth filled daily with such. Of course every house mother knows that when cooking is being done, a clear good fire is necessary. Mary Jane may during those halcyon hours pile on the best coal and be allowed liberally to “rake” it with a heavy poker, otherwise she will send up flabby pastry, raw potatoes, and half-cooked beef. But directly the midday meal be over, every scrap of green stuff, cabbage stalks, every bone--fish or flesh--is laid on the glowing embers of the range in mine house. A layer of wet coal-dust is added, the iron rings are put in place, the door is shut, and all dampers are pulled out. Thus, _sans odeur_, those atoms of waste food are consumed which, left to lie on an ashpit, would infallibly breed fever of all sorts. When, at six o’clock, another meal is required, the range is opened, lungs perforated through its crust, some knots of coal allowed, and a liberal use of the “curate” recommended.