ITS INGLE-NOOKS AND HOW TO ECONOMISE THEM.
In olden days the ingle-nook was the centre of the home. Built in a
deep recess of the wall, with its copper or brazen cupola, it had
benches fitted into its chimney corner on each side. Here, after a
day’s work was done, assembled the mistress with her distaff, maidens
with their lovers, sons with their netting, and the father with his
book. Here chat and song and sacred lore flowed freely and fast. On its
wide breast lay large logs of hazel and oak, beechen boughs and green
ashwood. Bit by bit as they smouldered away fresh limbs were added,
keeping up a crimson glow on the wide hearth.
Nowadays, in mine house slow combustion grates and stoves reign
supreme. By their use much of the picturesqueness of our fires is done
away with, but a wonderful economy in the coal-bill effected. This
is not the case, however, if our particular Mary Jane be allowed to
make and mend at her own sweet will. The “Eagle Range” is quite as
omnivorous as its namesake if cook keeps every damper out and every
cross-door shut. Unless she cleans each flue scrupulously, the “Eagle”
and its ilk will only consume lumps of best Orrell--and consume them
much faster than an open fireplace would do.
In mine house the first lesson taught a new maid is how to lay and
light a fire. Scientifically done, it takes far less kindling wood
and far fewer matches than when built up at haphazard. There are two
methods of laying a fire. A range or stove must burn from the bottom
upwards; the open grate may be ignited on the top.
We will consider our drawing-room fire first. See that every bit of
ancient fire is raked away and every cinder riddled on the spot through
a 6d. wire-shovel. The meshes of this instrument are wide apart, so
only the large cinders are retained by its use; all small morsels
and dust fall through without raising a “pother,” and may be sifted
afterwards. Now fit a sheet of brown paper across the lower bars and
lay over it some lumps of clean round coal. On the top of these empty
your cinders, and over them again place wood and bits of crumpled paper
in the order named. One match applied to this topmost layer will ignite
the tissue, and very slowly it will burn downwards until the Orrell be
reached.
This glowing mass must on no account be poked. In fact, if this mode of
lighting our sitting-room fires be adopted, sets of fire-irons should
be conspicuous by their absence. A very distinct saving is effected
by this; first we are spared initial cost of purchase, and afterwards
constant extravagant use of the poker is avoided.
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.
For toasting or ironing purposes we utilise a heap of clean cinders
which has gradually been accumulating in a corner of the yard. The dews
of heaven have kept these damp, and the raindrops have cleaned them
before we shovel them on to the fire. Ram them into the grate, and thus
provide the best (because most smokeless) fuel for laundry work. Our
flat irons, heated by these cinders, are not smoke begrimed or sooty,
but keep bright and smooth all the year round.
In the ingle-nook of mine house open fireplaces are, in two rooms,
replaced by American stoves. One of them stands about two and a half
feet high and cost only 15s. It juts well out in the study--close to
the writing-table--and keeps my toes and fingers warm and comfortable
at a minimum cost of fuel. An iron arm elbows its way up the closed
chimney, and a sheet of zinc nailed over the ordinary grate gives a
good draught. The fire-space in this stove is very tiny--a handful of
shavings and a spoonful of coal makes it light up cheerfully, and a
little damp slack keeps it at furnace heat for hours.
This wee warming-stove has saved its cost over and over again, and is
so easily lit up that I manage to have the comfort of a fire long
before my house-maidens have quitted the beautiful land of nod. All
undue dryness of the atmosphere is counteracted by keeping a pipkin
of water steaming on its face, and it is so clean that even the most
delicate curtains are not soiled by its use.
The value of having a smutless, smokeless, dustless fire can never be
over-estimated in this uncertain climate. Even many evenings in July
or August call for a small fire, and the easiness of lighting this
stove in the ingle-nook of mine house prevents such a necessity (as I
consider it) being considered a luxury.
I do not think I need speak of the virtues of gas as a heating agent.
We all recognise the desirability of its use; but, alas! where economy
has to be considered in our ingle-nooks, we cannot recommend it. In
place of coal gas is desirable; but in addition to coal it is fearfully
expensive. In mine house--when dog-days protest against any artificial
heat--we use paraffin.
Rippingill has invented and patented so many excellent elaborate
cooking-stoves that it is easy to do without our kitchen range. At
the cost of about four farthings a dinner consisting of half a leg of
mutton, boiled potatoes, peas, cauliflower, and a rice pudding can be
cooked to perfection. Even after these are done the ovens will be still
hot enough to bake a cake for afternoon tea or some pastry for supper.
The equable temperature maintained by an adjustable flame enables me
to “rise” all kinds of fancy bread in my “A.B.C.” stove splendidly,
and for making jam it is invaluable. No longer do I dread the annual
eruption of stones of ripe raspberries or the arrival of hairy, sweet
gooseberries by the gallon. The winter supply of jam in mine house is
made without burnt brows or scalded fingers over the little Rippingill
that stands in the store-room.
“But don’t the stoves smell fearfully?” is a question often asked. I
answer truthfully that they are absolutely odourless when properly
attended to. Loose particles of charred wick cause a loss of proper
ventilation; drops of oil spilt outside the reservoir, clogged burners,
all prevent proper combustion and produce a bad effluvia.
I find that constant supervision is necessary when we use oil in mine
house. Then only are the wicks well rubbed, then only are scissors
tabooed, then only fags and edges flame not, then only doth economy
wait on comfort in my ingle-nook. It requires skilled fingers to keep
chimneys clear enough to read by. A drop of ammonia added to the water
in which they are washed helps towards this crystalline condition. Then
no longer
“Our wasted oil unprofitably burns
Like hidden lamps in old sepulchral urns,”
but sheds round a clear shining light.
Perhaps a word or two about kindling may not be out of place
in considering this subject of economy in our ingle-nooks. Our
grandmother’s axiom was--
“A fire well mended
Is a fire well tended.”
But I think the making of a fire is even more important than its
mending or tending. To give our maids inadequate lighting material is
very false economy. Well dried, well chopped, well seasoned faggots are
a necessity in mine house.
“Ash green” may be “fire-wood fit for a queen,” but it makes bad
kindling. Bundles of small sticks may be bought so cheaply nowadays
that we should never be without them. Unlike Hamlet, we need not “for
the day be confined to fast in fires” if we provide these and a few
medicated wheels for hasty work.
On the other hand Mary Jane must be impressed with the fact that
twelve bundles represent twenty-four fires at the least. Half a dozen
sticks laid lightly in a basket-fashion will do the same work as a
whole handful lumped on together. “Waste not, want not,” is a motto
much to be observed in this matter.
It is a good thing to have a regular weekly supply sent in, regulated
by the number of fires in general use. For extra ones, half a dozen
medicated wheels should be kept in the store press, and only given out
when one is unexpectedly called for.
I cannot quit this subject of the ingle-nook in mine house without
speaking a little about the summer ornamentation thereof. As I hinted
before, I personally consider the best ornament of our fire-stoves
to be a fire, even in August--or, at least, the makings of a fire if
required.
In my best room we lift out the leaded bars and replace them with
bright brass ones, filling in the space with faggots and coal and
fircones. The glistening rods do not prevent our having an occasional
blaze, for a rub with “Globe” polish soon polishes them after use. We
do not lift away the pierced brass curb or dogs, but amongst and behind
them a few pots of ferns are stood about. They do not mind the draught
up the chimney (N.B.--No register is ever drawn down in mine house),
and can be judiciously damped as they stand on the tiled hearth. A
second suffices to shift these when a fire is called for.
I think easy removal is the primary rule in decoration of our
ingle-nook. Thus, heavy, dust-collecting curtains should never be
attached to the mantelpiece; much less may art muslin draperies
be tolerated. I have seen them in some houses with all their
suggestiveness of downright tragedy veiled by flimsy unreality. One
spark, one splutter, one fizz, and flames would lick them up like
paper. A hammered brass and iron screen--a sheet of looking-glass--if
you must hide the settee. On the other hand, a fir or larch bough, with
its red-brown stem and crimson tassels, may be laid across the set
fire, and one has decoration enough.
Nothing can be beautiful in our ingle-nook which conveys a false notion
of the purpose to which it will be applied. Decorative art requires
that the nature of construction should as far as possible be revealed
or indicated by the ornament which it bears.
“The beauty of fitness” must be borne in mind when we are tempted to
fill the fire-baskets in our ingle-nooks with tinsel and shavings,
paper designs or artificial flowers. In the huge chimney space of an
ancient fireplace logs of wood carelessly piled on dogs was a fit and
appropriate decoration. So a well laid fire is, after all, to end
with as well as to begin with the best ornament we can stand in the
ingle-nook.
Perhaps no object in mine house speaks of higher things in a louder
voice than does the fire in its ingle-nook. Scenes of terror and
beauty in the Bible often surround a hearth and a flame. The burning
bush which hid Jehovah; the flashing fire enfolding itself (Ezek. i.)
displayed Him; a furnace lit up the first covenant (Gen. xv. 17), and
so on through the whole book.
In one of the Significant Rooms of the Interpreter’s House a fire
burned all the year round upon which rival forces poured oil and
water--a picture this of God’s grace overcoming the evil one.
And so we weave round the most sacred spot in our homes a fabric of
thought and poetry and prayer--
“Where glowing embers through the room
Teach light to counterfeit a gloom.”
A little cricket still chirps of love and help and warmth and all that
makes life lovely.
(_To be continued._)
CHINA MARKS.
ENGLISH PORCELAIN.