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Updated: May 8, 2025
I should as soon think of lighting the fire with sweet-oil that comes in those graceful wicker-bound flasks from Naples, or with manuscript sermons, which, however, do not burn well, be they never so dry, not half so well as printed editorials. Few people know how to make a wood-fire, but everybody thinks he or she does. You want, first, a large backlog, which does not rest on the andirons.
Now you are ready for the hand-chunks, or andirons. These are shorter sticks of wood, eight or ten inches thick, laid at right angles to the backlog, four or five feet apart. Across these you are to build up the firewood proper. Use a dry spruce-tree, not one that has fallen, but one that is dead and still standing, if you want a lively, snapping fire.
I have never been upon a throne, except in moments of a traveler's curiosity, about as long as a South American dictator remains on one, but I have no idea that it compares, for pleasantness, with a seat before a wood-fire. A whole leisure day before you, a good novel in hand, and the backlog only just beginning to kindle, with uncounted hours of comfort in it, has life anything more delicious?
Brunner glanced across at me, then stooped to dig a live coal out of the ashes. He held it for half a minute before packing it into the bowl of his pipe, shifting it imperceptibly in his toughened hand as he studied the backlog. When his tobacco was burning steadily, he spoke: "I can tell you the truth about young Henry and the old man, too." I thought his tone changed.
If a big fire is desired, keep this log—the “forelog”—well to the front, just back of the andiron upright posts, leaving plenty of space between backlog and forelog for the main body of the fire. The distance between these two logs will govern the size of the fire.
She was vigorously fanning the backlog when a sound from behind indicated that her mother had risen from the chair. She smiled as she glanced over her shoulder. Her mother was standing with one of her hands pressed tightly to her eyes. Her lips were moving. "He is Robert Robert himself," she was murmuring. "As like as two peas.
She undressed the little prince, and bathed him all over with some fragrant liquid out of a vase. The next thing she did was to rake back the red embers, and make a hollow place among them, just where the backlog had been. She then raked the ashes over him, and turned quietly away.
I do not know whether the editor discourages them, knowing his readers' frame, or whether they do not offer themselves, but I seldom find them in the magazines. I certainly do not believe that if any one were now to write essays such as Warner's Backlog Studies, an editor would refuse them; and perhaps nobody really writes them.
I have never been upon a throne, except in moments of a traveler's curiosity, about as long as a South American dictator remains on one, but I have no idea that it compares, for pleasantness, with a seat before a wood-fire. A whole leisure day before you, a good novel in hand, and the backlog only just beginning to kindle, with uncounted hours of comfort in it, has life anything more delicious?
We must vigorously enforce the laws that make it illegal. I ask your help to end the backlog at the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission. Sixty thousand of our fellow citizens are waiting in line for justice, and we should act now to end their wait.
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