“In case of houseafire, human folks must be saved before all other furniture, because they are most combustable. This can be did by throwing wet blanket over them and dragging them forth. Valuable heirlooms can be saved from burning house by taking them out.”
I read this instructions, Mr. Editor, and feel prepared for anything.
This Mrs. Fogg got one Irish cooklady name of Hilda Katz. Hon. Hilda are beautiful, except her face and figure, which are not. She enjoy very sorry romance, because of Hon. Wm., a hack-driver, who drove away with another fiancée and remain there. Consequent of this, Hon. Hilda weep & cook nearly all time.
“Togo,” she report to me, while making tears and pies, “never promise to marry any gentleman in the livery-stable business.”
“I shall avoid this peril firmly,” I narrate.
“67 doz assorted love-letters this Wm. sent me. And what usefulness are they now?” Weeps by her.
“They might make a sad novel, if printed among pictures,” I say so.
She peel onions with Romeo expression.
But I were too busy being a fire-detective to think of Wm. and his escape from love. Nearly each hour by clock-time Hon. Mrs. would come to me and talk underwriter language:
“You hear that smell of smoke?” she require.