"I DO WISH HE WOULD COME!" On the Monday morning Harry came home as usual, and, as usual, went to bed after his breakfast.

"I wouldn't care about the heat if it were not for the wind," he said to his wife, as he threw himself down.
"The wind carries it so, I suppose." "Yes; and it comes from just the wrong side--from the northwest.
There have been half a dozen fires about to-day." "During the night, you mean." "No; yesterday--Sunday.

I can not make out whether they come by themselves.

They certainly are not all made by incendiaries." "Accidents, perhaps." "Well, yes.

Somebody drops a match, and the sun ignites it.