While fighting a fire, a Pennsylvania firemen became blinded by smoke and fell down a flight of stairs. While a fall down a flight of stairs is nothing to be laughed at, the most serious part of the incident, was that the firemen lost a set of false teeth which he believed to be firmly fixed in his mouth. But such is the stuff that volunteer firemen are made of—when duty calls, personal comforts or rewards arc forgotten in the task of fighting the flames. The sacrifice of this fireman was soon adjusted. At a meeting of the firemen’s association, it was voted to purchase him a new set of false teeth.

Drawing by “Art” Espey


“Do you know that you would make a wonderful fireman,” said she to him after a long pause of silence in the family parlor.

“How’s that?”

“Well,” she replied, “you never take your eyes off the hose.”

“What’s an example of arson? “Burning whiskey on a plum pudding,” replied the other.


A meck-looking darky was brought into a suburban police station the other day and was charged with arson. He pleaded innocence. The fire chief was on hand at the hearing.

“Well.” said the examining officer, “is there anyone here who can vouch for your respectability ?”

The darky pointed to the chief of the fire department.

The fire chief gasped, “I can? Why, I don’t even know you.”

“Dat’s it exactly, officer,” said the accused. “I’se lived in dis place fo’ mo’ dan five years and de fire chief don’t even know me. So you see, gents, I can’t be much on what you calls arson.”


THE siren shrieks, and the klaxon blows—

A big red blur, and the engine goes Like a drunken giant through the traffic jam,

Hell-bent for the flames on Amsterdam. The pavement trembles, red sparks fly As the hook-and-ladder comes pounding by.

For Commerce is dead, Romance holds sway—

Rome again on a holiday!

The grocer leaves his counter, the policeman leaves his beat—

Half the city’s urchins racing up the street.

All the world is young again—flames are leaping higher—

Levy and Sullivan tearin’ towards the fire.

And now black smoke comes pouring out, And the rabble all eager howl and shout As in the arena long ago When the lions and Christians put on a show.

Up go the ladders! Up go the men!

Fire and destruction must be met again! Up go the hose on the water towers And the flames are drowned in their streaming showers.

This is the prelude to the tale Of Moe Levinsky’s fire sale.



A two alarm fire occurred in a Nable in the lower west side of New York end the men were overhauling. One of the men asked the lieutenant if he could walk back to quarters that were not far away to start the cooking for the noonday meal.

“No, better eat around here, somewhere.”

The firemen continued to overhaul and one of them would occasionally pick up a bit of straw or hay and chew on the tip of it as firemen used to do in the horse age.

“There’s a fellow so hungry, he’s eating the hay,” said the fireman to the lieutenant.

“Won’t hurt him,” replied the lieutenant, “he’s a donkey, anyhow.”



A Pittsfield parson was awakened by the roar of a fire whistle which shattered the early Sabbath silence. Hastily slipping from bed. he rushed to a front window to see what the sky might tell him. In the meantime a gentle breeze closed his bedroom door. The spring lock snapped and the parson was left out in the cold parish house with his keys and his clothes beyond his reach. There he stayed in his abbreviated attire until the sexton found him two hours later.


Notice: Will the person who saved $50 in currency from the cash drawer during the fire which threatened the store Tuesday night return the same at once—Moyer Hardware Store.


It was a sleepy village, and its fire brigade was anything but up-to-date. One night a fire was announced by the violent ringing of the fire alarm bell, and the sleepy brigade arrived at the scene to find the burning building a mass of smoke. No flames were visible from the outside.

The captain made a careful survey. Then he lit his pipe and started to smoke.

“We’ll do better if we leave it alone and let it burn up a bit,” he said. “Then we’ll be able to see what we are doing.”

It’s the Push That Counts Hurray for the dauntless firemen of Presho, S. D.! When it came time to use the apparatus to extinguish a blaze in the city, it was found that there was no gasoline in the tank, that the battery was too weak to operate the ignition system and that there was one flat tire. But where each of the men put their shoulder to the wheel, countless things may be accomplished. In this instance, the apparatus was pushed several blocks to the scene of the fire.

Drawing by “Art” Espey

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