Did I ever tell you about the time we boys set Grandpa Snow's barn on fire? It happened long ago, but I shall never forget it, if I live to be a hundred years old.

Kenneth and I always thought no better luck would ever come to us than to be told that we might spend the last week of July and the whole month of August with Grandpa and Grandma Snow.

Grandpa Snow owned a large farm up among the Green Mountains, and as our home was in the city, you can imagine how much it meant to us to hear that we were to spend five long weeks in the country.

I was eleven years old and Kenneth was eight, and as we had to change cars but once, Father said we might go all the way alone.

We left the station at eight o'clock in the morning, in the care of a good-natured, obliging conductor who promised to see that we changed cars safely at White River Junction, and the long ride in the train seemed just a part of the vacation fun.

I truly think that we did just as Mother would have liked us to do all that day. She looked so sweet and earnest when she bade us good-bye and said, "Now, boys, be kind and polite to everyone who speaks to you," that we couldn't help remembering her words.

There was a tired-looking woman on the train. She had a little boy who was tired, too, and he kept crying and fussing, until at last Kenneth said he was going to take him over in our seat and amuse him.

The boy was a jolly little fellow, about the age of our dear little baby sister at home, and we three had such a good time together that we could hardly believe our ears when the brakeman shouted out, "Walden! Walden!"

We gathered our bags and boxes together in a hurry, and bade good-bye to our new-found friends. In a minute we were out on the station platform, and the train was whizzing away without us; but we didn't have time to wonder if any one were coming to meet us, for down the road came Grandpa Snow, rattling along in a big hay-rack and waving his old straw hat at us.

"Hello, boys!" he said, as he pulled up his horses beside the platform; "we were pretty busy in the hay-field to-day, so I thought I could come right along, and give you a ride in my new hay-wagon. There's no fancy top on it, but there is plenty of room for both of you young chaps and all your baggage. You'll like it better than an automobile ride, I'll wager. So this is Leslie and Kenneth, is it? You surely have grown! Why, I can hardly tell one from the other, but I'll trust Grandma to know. She always seems to understand boys pretty well."

After a hug, and a hand-shake, and a hearty laugh, we jogged along up the road. Even if we were only boys I don't believe we shall ever forget that ride. It was late in the afternoon, and the air was so cool and sweet that it hardly seemed as if it could be the same hot, dusty day we began in the city. We could smell the cedar and fir-balsam all along the way, and every little while there was a bird-note like a sweet-toned bell.

It wasn't very long before we spied Grandpa's house, and dear old Grandma in the door waving her apron to us.

"Well, Mother," called out Grandpa, as we drove into the yard, "here are two new hired men for you. How do you think you will like them?"By the way Grandma hugged us and kissed us, I guess she thought we would suit her pretty well. I remember something that suited us, too, and that was the good things we had to eat that night.

I wonder if there is any one else in the whole world who can cook like one's own grandmother? Perhaps there is,—but I know one thing, Grandma Snow was the best cook I ever saw. You should have seen that supper! There were hot biscuits, and fried chicken, and honey, and gingerbread, and cookies, and strawberry tarts, and cottage cheese, and so many good things that we couldn't eat half of them.

Every time we stopped eating Grandma would say, "Something must be the matter with these boys. They haven't any appetite." And Grandpa would look at us over his spectacles and answer, "They do look pale and thin. Give them another tart." Then he'd give one of his great laughs and shake all over like a big bowl of jelly.

We had just time after supper to help Grandpa and the hired man get in one load of hay. Then it was dark, and we were so tired and sleepy that we were glad to climb into bed,—just the highest, whitest, softest bed you ever saw.

We made Grandma promise to call us very early, and at five o'clock the next morning we were ready for breakfast and the day's work in the hay-field.

What fun it was to rake after the wagon, and to ride home on those great, sweet-smelling loads of hay!

Of course we had plenty of time to play, but we liked to work, too; and the work on a farm seems like play to boys who have always lived in the city.

We used to go down to the garden every morning to pick the vegetables for dinner, and we always helped Grandma shell the peas and string the beans. It took a good big panful, too, for we were pretty hungry up there on the farm.

Every morning we drove the cows to the pasture, and every afternoon we drove them home. We hunted for hens' eggs in the big barn, and went blueberrying and blackberrying. Kenneth made a collection of wild flowers, and Grandma showed him how to press them so that he could take them home.

What good times we did have! Even on rainy days there was always something to do, and we often had the most fun of all when it was raining the hardest. All the boys in the neighborhood got into the habit of coming to play with us in one of Grandpa's barns; and we used to have circuses and tight-rope walking and all sorts of games.

But one day, when we had been having a very jolly time together, one of the boys suggested that we should try a new game. "I'm tired of walking on beams and jumping off hay-mows," he said. "Let's do something different."

He took a whole bunch of matches out of his pocket and held them up. "Let's try scratching matches, and see who can scratch the most and blow them out again in one minute," he suggested.

I, for one, knew very well that matches were not made to play with, and I said so. Kenneth and Willie Smith agreed with me. So did Joe Wiggin and Peter Fisher, but four or five of the boys thought it would be great fun, and in spite of all we could say the match-race began.

Four boys sat down in a circle on the barn floor, lighting and blowing out the matches just as fast as they could, while Harry Plummer counted sixty.

In their hurry, they threw the matches down carelessly, and before any of us noticed it, a lighted match had been thrown into the hay.

It blazed up in an instant, and before we could run to the field for help the whole barn was a roaring furnace. Joe Wiggin and Peter Fisher led out the two horses, and fortunately, the cows were in the pasture, for in less than half an hour the barn was burned to the ground. All the hay that we had worked so hard to get in was lost, besides some of Grandpa's tools and his new hay-rack.

Grandpa and the hired man got there in time to save the harnesses and a few little things, and then all we could do was just to stand there and watch the barn burn. The nearest fire-engine was in the village four miles away, and all the water we had was in one well.

Luckily Grandpa's buildings were not joined together, and as there was no wind, only that one barn was burned. But that was one too many.

I tell you, I shall never forget that fire, and to this day I can't see a boy with matches in his pocket without wanting to tell him this story and urge him to remember all his life that matches are made for use and not for playthings.

Tell of some of the good times you have had on a farm.

What did the boys do on rainy days?

What game did one of them propose?

What happened while they were playing this game?

What are matches made for?

How should they be used?

There are several kinds of matches,—brimstone matches, parlor matches, bird's-eye matches, and safety matches. Safety matches can be lighted only on their own box, and are, therefore, the safest match to use. Parlor matches, so called, are dangerous, as they break easily and the blazing head flies off, lodging in clothing, draperies, or furniture. The sale of parlor matches is forbidden by law in New York City on account of the great number of fires which have resulted from their use.

Common matches should be kept in a tin box; they should be used carefully, and never thrown away while they are burning, or even while the stick is still red-hot. It is a bad habit to have matches scattered around the house, or lying loose in bureau drawers, in desks, on tables, or in the pockets of clothing. There are many ways in which fires have been caused by loose matches. Lucifer or brimstone matches have been known to burst into flame from the heat caused by the sun's rays shining through a window pane.