without further talk, and always with the same best intentions, this highly benevolent and common-sensible individual led the little white damsel drooping, drooping, drooping, more and more out of the frosty air, and into his comfortable parlor. a heidenberg stove, filled to the brim with intensely burning anthracite, was sending a bright gleam through the isinglass of its iron door, and causing the vase of water on its top to fume and bubble with excitement. a warm, sultry smell was diffused throughout the room. a thermometer on the wall farthest from the stove stood at eighty degrees. the parlor was hung with red curtains, and covered with a red carpet, and looked just as warm as it felt. the difference betwixt the atmosphere here and the cold, wintry twilight out of doors, was like stepping at once from nova zembla to the hottest part of india, or from the north pole into an oven. oh, this was a fine place for the little white stranger!