Classified as a modem calamity,the salamander hibernates all winterin the hollow of a treeor in some other cavity.It will not budgeuntil the burning hand of springcalls it forth benevolently,a venerable prophetindoctrinating his meager constituency.

From the fuel to the fire; nay,with the fuel, a part of the fuel,to this scene of tragedy—if the salamander does not wakein time to defend itself heroically.Many a log, I suspect,stopped burning prematurely.