When we had the furnace put into our new house, the man who built the house, and the agent who sold it, acted awful skairt.

The agent talked dretful skairful. He said we would be too hot. He said, “In every other respect it wuz a perfect furnace, only it would be liable to heat us up too much.”

By the contract Josiah wuz to give a big hefty price for the furnace, and this wuz the one they brung.

Wall, finally the agent talked so much about the awful amount of heat it would throw out that Josiah got skairt, and he sez,—

“I guess we had better get a smaller one, Samantha. How it would look to have a sunstroke in the winter!” sez he. “It would mortify me to have one myself, or have you.”

This wuz before they got it sot up. But I sez,—

“Be calm, Josiah Allen. Don’t let’s be too hasty in our movements. I dare persume to say we may suffer from the heat ofttimes. But you know it is three or four sizes smaller than the one we laid out to have.”

“Yes,” sez Josiah. “But this is such a heater, Samantha, I s’poze there hain’t nothin’ like it in the country for pourin’ out the heat in torrents. And it takes next to nothin’ in coal to run it. I am sorry I got so much coal,” sez he, dreamily, a-lookin’ at the big heaped-up ben. “It is all onnecessary; it hain’t a-goin’ to take more’n a ton, if it duz that, to run it all winter.”

“Oh, shaw!” sez I.

“Wall, it won’t take but a few pounds more, anyway. I know it won’t from what the agent sez. I am sorry,” sez he, “that I didn’t get it by the pound as we needed it. It hain’t likely we shall ever empty that ben, not if we don’t live beyond the nateral age of mortals.”

And Josiah looked sad.

But I merely sez ag’in, “Oh, shaw!” For I didn’t fall in with his idees at all. And the idee looked silly to me of his goin’ to Jonesville and bringin’ coal home a few pounds at a time, like tea, or suger; and so I sez “Oh, shaw!” to it.

And then he started off on a new tact, and sez he, “I am afraid it is resky, anyway, to have it round. I am afraid it will burn up the house.”

But I kep’ on a-counselin’ him to keep calm, and try it, and then he begin on a new idee, about heatin’ the door-yard with it from the furnace-room door, and raisin’ vegitables and flowers for market.

But I sez, “With snow eight or ten feet deep, and old zero a-goin’ down to forty, I guess we can’t raise many vegitables and flowers in the door-yard.”

“Of course we couldn’t without the furnace,” sez he. “But that furnace, from what that agent sez, would jest melt the snow right down and keep it warm as summer clear to the orchard fence. And the meltin’ snow would make the ground moist and rich. Why,” sez he, “Samantha, I believe we could make our everlastin’ fortune by it.”

And he sot down and crossed his legs, and begin to calculate, on the back of the Almanac, how much string-beans would fetch in January, and how our lettuce would be sought for in December, and how much he ort to have a head for it.

But I looked on this like one of the many bubbles I had seen him throw up rosy and gold tinted, to break anon over his devoted but bald head, and drizzle down into damp mist and nothin’ness.

And I kep’ on a-tellin’ him to be mejum, and to go slow. Sez I,—

“Don’t you go to breakin’ up ground and puttin’ in garden-seeds in November on the strength of that furnace.”

But sez he, “The heat of it ort to be utilized. It is not only resky to have so much heat a-layin’ loose round, but it seems wicked to waste it.”

And I ketched Josiah Allen that day a-figgerin’ on a blank page in Fox’s Book of Martyrs how he could carry the waste heat to the barn and heat up the cattle.

But I kep’ calm through it all. Of course I knew from the agent’s talk that we wuz takin’ a great resk onto us, almost like goin’ to a torrid zone in the fall of the year. And though I did in my secret thoughts apprehend sunstrokes and prostrations, and perused the medical portion of the Almanac in my hours of leisure, for directions to fetch folks to when they wuz prostrated by heat, still I kep’ a calm demeanor on the outside of me, and never let on to Josiah that I had a apprehension.

That is my way, to keep still, and calm, and do everything I can to avert danger.

In the same quiet way, I got out three old palm-leaf fans, and put new bindin’s round the edges, and hemmed over the bottom of my old lawn dress, and I bought eleven yards of cheese bandage cloth at a outlay of five cents a yard, and colored it a soft gray with plum boughs. If I couldn’t wear calico in the winter, as I mistrusted I couldn’t from the agent’s talk, why, I laid out to be prepared. And if my apprehensions wuz futile, why, I laid out to make it into a comforter for my bed. Ten yards would make the comforter, and the odd yard I needed for a wipin’-cloth.

They wuz quite a long time a-settin’ up the furnace. It seemed to me to take a good while, but I wuzn’t used to the common behavior of furnaces, and didn’t know but it wuz one of their habits to be a good while a-bein’ sot up.

Of course, Josiah bein’ a man, and bein’ round with the workmen more, and hearin’ more of the skairful talk of that agent, about the heat that wuz soon a-goin’ to pour onto us, it wuz nateral that he should get skairter than I wuz, and it wuz on the very afternoon that they finished settin’ it up, and I s’poze the agent had acted very skairful, and also the men that wuz a-helpin’ set it up (for of course it wuz nateral that they should all be linked together in their talk about it).

It wuz that very afternoon, along towards night, that I overheard Josiah, out by the gate, a-tryin’ to sell his clothes, all his thick ones. And I walked right out bareheaded, and interfered.

But Josiah sez, “What will I ever want of ’em ag’in?”

And I sez, “You act like a luny. Hain’t you got to go out any more to mill or to meetin’?”

But sez he, “I am only sellin’ them that I wear round the house winters.”

But I sez, “Do you desist imegiatly,” sez I. “If the clothes hain’t wanted, I need ’em for carpet-rags.”

“Carpets!” sez he. “Do you s’poze we can stand carpets in such a heat? I am goin’ to buy mattin’, mattin’ of the very coolest kind.”

Sez I, sternly, “Do you stop sellin’ or buyin’, and wait.”

“Yes,” sez he, bitterly, “wait! till we all have sunstrokes, and are dead and buried.”

I see he wuz fearfully worked up, and all the rest of the afternoon I made errents for him to keep him away from that agent and the workmen. I see he wuz gettin’ completely onstrung. And I, with my own inward apprehensions, wuz in no state to string him up ag’in.

So I kep’ him away from them by borrowin’ things I didn’t want of Mrs. Gowdey, and sendin’ home tea I never had to Miss Bobbitses, and etc. etc.

Yes, to such depths of deceit will a woman’s devoted love lead her.

Wall, about night they got it sot up, and Josiah and I proceeded down-stairs to see it. They had all gone then, for Miss Bobbit had detained Josiah with a long story. She mistrusted sunthin’.

Wall, when we went down to see it, it looked queer enough. The furnace wuz so very small, and the big pipes a-leadin’ from it in every direction looked so very big.

I don’t know as I can describe it any better than to say it looked like a small teacup sot out in a door-yard, with very big eave-spouts a-runnin’ from it all over the yard. Or as a very small infant of a few weeks of age would look, a-settin’ up with a man’s high hat on, and a pair of number eleven boots.

It looked curious, and strange, so strange that I sithed, as I looked at it, and Josiah looked stunted, and he took out his bandanna handkerchief and wiped his forward, without words.

Finally he sez, sort o’ dreamily,—

“’Most all great inventions and discoveries look strange at first.”

And I sez, almost mechanically, “Yes, that is so, Josiah.”

And he spoke out ag’in, “Napoleon Boneparte wuz a small man, but what a generel he wuz! What a leader! How fiery he wuz!”

And I sez, “Yes,” ag’in.

And he sez, a-brightenin’ up in his thoughts, and in delicate defference to me,—

“The pen is mightier than the sword.”

Wall, the next mornin’ the fire wuz built in the furnace, and, it bein’ hot weather, it heat the house beautifully. It wuz about ninety in the shade, so the furnace heat the house warm, and the agent and men looked triumphant, and ag’in Josiah’s apprehensions rose, and he wondered how he wuz goin’ to get through the winter with it without meltin’ right down in our tracts.

But I kep’ cool, or as cool as I could in dog-days, and didn’t say much.

Wall, it run along, and run along, the furnace always a-goin’, to dry the plasterin’, and Josiah’s stock of winter coal kep’ a-dwindlin’ down.

Whatever else the furnace could do, or couldn’t do, it could devour coal with the best of ’em. Like some folks I have seen, it wuz small in size, but had a immense appetite.

Ton after ton vanished like tales that wuz told, into its insatiable mouth (door of furnace).

But as the weather wuz still hot, it heat the house beautifully, so Josiah didn’t complain. But he lay awake nights a-worryin’ about the effects of heat.

But finally there come on a cold snap, jest as I wuz a-gettin’ the new house cleaned, and carpets put down, and I found there wuzn’t a room I could set down in, it wuz so cold.

It wuz a very cold day when I had the dinin’-room carpet put down, and I had hired a stout healthy woman, two hundred pounds wuz her weight, and her temperature wuz above normal, it wuz so good.

I went over to the house that mornin’, and I shivered imperceptibly as I walked through the rooms,—I didn’t venter to set,—and I met Josiah a-comin’ up from the suller with his mittens on, and a comforter round his neck, and his teeth a-chatterin’.

And I sez to him, “Hain’t you glad you didn’t sell your mittens and comforter, Josiah?”

And he sez, real snappish, “I wouldn’t be a fool!”

And I sez, “I didn’t mean no hurt, Josiah,” and I added further, as I clapped my hands together to warm ’em, “We are both sufferers, Josiah Allen.”

“Wall,” sez he, “when we get into the house it will be different. Then we can give it a fair test.”

And I sez, a-glancin’ at the empty coal-ben,—

“If four tons of coal hain’t a test, I don’t know a test when I see it.”

We had got down in front of the furnace by this time, and I looked down on it pityin’ly, it looked so fearful small, and the cold all round it seemed so intense.

And I sez, “The poor little thing hain’t to blame: it duz the best it can, but it has took too hefty a job on it for its size and constitution.”

He wuz a-leanin’ over the top of the furnace, a-brushin’ off the icicles from his whiskers; and he sez, almost mechanically,—

“You know the man said it wuz such a heater; you know he said it wuz fairly dangerous.”

“Yes,” sez I, “but I learned long ago to put not your trust in princes, or agents,” sez I. “That is Bible, Josiah, part on’t.”

Wall, he shivered so that I got him out of the furnace-room as quick as I could, and then I went up-stairs, a-wroppin’ my thick woollen shawl more closely round my frame, and I looked round to see what had become of my hired woman, for I feared the worst; I feared she had perished.

But no, I found she wuz resusitated. I found her a-settin’ on the regester in the dinin’-room floor, the heat turned on to its utmost capacity, and she wuz a-sewin’ on the carpet.

But she looked blue, and her frame shook. And she said she wuz cold, bitter cold.

And she sez to me, in gloomy axents,—

“How are you a-goin’ to stand it through the winter?”

My soul wuz racked with the same agonizin’ apprehensions. But I tried to be calm; I wuz cool, I know,—freezin’ cool.

Wall, that afternoon I made a voyalent effort to have that furnace took out, and a bigger one put in, and one that had a warmer circulation and a more healthy constitution inside of it.

“For,” sez I, “if we enter this house with that furnace in it, we shall all likewise perish.”

I thought mebby if I used a skriptural term the man would hear to me, seein’ he wuz a perfesser.

But no, he stood firm. He said “we hadn’t tested it sufficient.” And the rest of the men a-standin’ round with blue noses, all jined in with him:

“No, we hadn’t tested it.”

Wall, I gin my shawl a closter wrop round my chilly frame, and pinted my frigid forefinger towards the empty coal-ben, and sez,—

“If four tons of coal hain’t a test, what do you call one?”

And sez I, “If that hain’t a test, there is a woman a-perishin’ out there now, a-settin’ on the regester: bring her in for a test if you want another.”

But no; one of ’em recommended givin’ her whiskey to keep her temperature up till she got the carpet down.

But Josiah rousted up at that, and said “he wuzn’t goin’ to stand the expense of keepin’ folkses heat up with brandy.” (That man is close.) And I repudiated the idee, and said, “I put more faith in soapstuns and woollen shawls.”

And I sez ag’in, in eloquent axents, “Take out that furnace, and put in a bigger one, and I will move in and test it.”

And then they said “they wouldn’t.”

And we said “we wouldn’t.”

And then the man threw some hints at us about the law.

And then Tirzah Ann throwed some back at him, about its not bein’ a new furnace.

Such news had come to us, and come very straight and direct. Miss Deacon Elikum Peck told she that wuz Hetty Avery, and she that wuz Hetty told old Miss Blodgett, and she told the editor of the Augurses wife, and she told Miss Preserved Green, and she told Tirzah Ann. It come straight.

And then the man said that it hadn’t never been sot up before, and also that it had all been fixed over sense it wuz sot up.

This wuz very satisfactory to Josiah, but not to me, and I told him ag’in, impressively,—

“Take out that furnace. My life I feel is at the stake.”

But they stood firm. And when one party stands firm and won’t move, the other party has got to; that is, if there is any movement.

So finally, with a forebodin’ mind and a frosty frame, I took the venter.

I had a large coal stove in the kitchen, so I knew that part of the house wuz habitable. So I moved in, accompanied by a good wood stove, which wuz sot up in my room.

Wall, the first thing that happened to me wuz a cold that set my teeth to achin’ so hard it seemed as if they must shatter the gooms, and my face swelled up almost enormous. I lay in the most excrutiating agony for a week. The pain I suffered every hour wuz costly enough to me to buy the furnace, pipe and all, if pain could profit a man or woman.

At last I got easier through the constant application of hot poultices, mustard, catnip, etcetery. And a hot fire in my wood stove made me comfortable in frame. I couldn’t sleep, so I could ’tend to havin’ the wood put in.

One night, the coldest of the season, worn out with long watchin’ and pain, I slept sound. So did the one who took care on me: we slept so sound that my wood fire languished and went out, and we wuz left in our weakness, in the silence and darkness, to the mercy of that poor little furnace.

Curious little thing, it wuzn’t to blame: it did the best it could with its circulation and size.

But in the mornin’ I waked up so cold that it seemed as if I would have loved to go to Greenland to have warmed up some, or Iceland would have been a grateful change.

Waked up with a cold ketched there in my peaceful bed, that brung me down to the very verge of the grave. Yes, I went down so close to the dark river that I could almost hear the mysterious swashin’ of its waves against the shores of the Present.

For eight long weeks did I lay there and suffer, and doctors and nurses a-sufferin’ too; for it wuzn’t only me they had to take care on, they had to take constant and broodin’ care of that poor feeble little furnace: that had to be sot up with jest as regular as I did. Sometimes they hired a man to set up with it regular till two in the mornin’, thinkin’ then it would survive till mornin’. Sometimes they tried waitin’ on it three or four times a night, and keepin’ it alive that way.

Wall, after eight or nine weeks of sufferin’ almost onexampled, I got better; but the poor little furnace kep’ on a-growin’ weaker and more weak, its circulation more and more clogged up, and its inward fires a-expirin’ gradual.

And finally consent wuz giv that we should put in a new furnace. And we imegiatly and to once bought a big noble-sized one, with a good healthy circulation, that makes our house like summer all the time, day and night.

Why, it fairly fools the house-plants, makes the silly things think it is summer. And up stairs and down, in almost every livin’-room their big green leaves and dewy blossoms shine out, not mistrustin’ that it hain’t June.

And the red and green parrot sets and talks and looks wise, and is a-s’pozin’ all the time that he is in New Mexico.

Wall, the day that the little furnace wuz took out of the suller (poor little weak broken-down creeter, I can’t help bein’ sorry for it), that very day I paid my doctor’s bill,—a good hefty one. The nurse’s bill, and the bills of them that had sot up with me, and sot up with the furnace, hadn’t come in yet; but I knew they would be big, and ort to be, a-takin’ care on us both.

The doctor had just gone, and I wuz a-settin’ in my room relapsted into meditation and a big rockin’-chair,—for I wuz far from bein’ strong yet,—when all of a sudden my pardner burst into the room, all rousted up and agitated to a extreme degree, and sez he,—

“What do you s’poze we have discovered now, Samantha? How old do you think that furnace is, Samantha Allen?”

And I sez, “I don’t feel like guessin’ on deep subjects, feelin’ as I do, weak as a cat.”

“Wall,” sez he, “the body part of it is the very same old potash-kettle that George Washington made potash in before the war of 1812.”

Sez I, “I don’t believe any such thing,” and sez I, a-leanin’ back in my copperplate chair,—

“You tire me, Josiah, with your wild and impassioned skemes and idees. Only a little while ago you wuz a-tryin’ to sell your clothes to escape the burnin’ qualities of that furnace, and now you are a-tryin’ to make it out older’n the hills.”

“But this is a fact,” sez he. “I recognized it the minute it wuz oncovered. I see a picture of it once in a Life of Washington. It is a peculiar shape, and I can’t be mistook.”

Sez I, “I don’t believe a word of it.”

“Wall,” sez he, firmly, “I can prove it.”

“How?” sez I.

“Wall, there is a big hole in the side of it where his hired man got mad and kicked at it. It has been all cemented up and mended, but you can see the marks plain.”

“How did you get holt of that idee?” sez I, sternly.

“History,” sez he. “I read a good deal that I never told you about.”

“I should think as much,” sez I. And I sez further,—

“Get that idee out of your head to once, Josiah Allen. George Washington never see this furnace: it wuz made sense his time.”

But Josiah contended it wuz so, and left the room mad as a hen to think I wouldn’t give in with him.

And in less than ten minutes up he hurried with another idee in his head. And sez he the first thing,—

“More proof, Samantha! in takin’ the furnace apart we have found the old rim that Washington’s folks used with his potash-kettle, all broke to pieces and wired together.”

Sez I, “I don’t believe it. I don’t believe a word of it.”

“Wall,” sez he, triumphantly, “come down suller, and I will prove it.”

So I tottered down suller (for what will not a wife do to please her pardner?), and there, sure enough, wuz a iron rim which had been broke long ago to all appearance, and mended with old wire. And the big part did indeed look in shape like a old potash-kettle with some places in the side that had been patched up with cement.

I looked down on it pensively and sez,—

“And that is what we wuz to pay that big hefty price for. That is what wuz a-goin’ to give us sunstrokes in the winter, and prostrations from too fervid heat.”

A by-stander a-standin’ by remarked tersely,—

“All it is good for is old iron.”

But Josiah sez, “Wall, I’ll bet George Washington made durned good potash in it. I’ll bet it wuz a good kettle in its day.”

Sez I, “Josiah Allen, cease such talk. I should think we had suffered enough with the little thing, without lyin’ about it.”

But sez he, firmly, “I believe every word I say, and I don’t say a thing I can’t prove. That is George Washington’s potash-kettle.”

I sithed, and turned silently away, for I knew words wuz vain.

And though I don’t believe a word on it, and though I know it wuz made sense that time, and hain’t nigh so old, I can’t turn my companion’s mind round the wedth of a horse-hair.

He will go down to the grave a-thinkin’ that that wuz George Washington’s potash-kettle, and them mended-up places he found in it wuz made by the hired man a-kickin’ at it when he was mad at George.