of Coney Island to build such merry architecture.

Hon. Mrs. Boss are considerable proud of her house & what is inside. She got an elaborate number of plush picture-frames containing photos of Homer. Also she got cute jugs and pitchers walking over shelves & tables resembling decorated bugs doing so. Her dining room are full of cut-up glasswear to resemble swollen diamonds. Over mantel-peace are portrait-face90 of Uncle Seth, famous hero, who was scared to death in Battle of Bully Run.

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“Home,” she say so to me on date she hired me for employment, “Home should be full of objects to resemble soul of sweet lady what keep it.”

“What a romping soul you must have!” I exclam for chivalry, while rubbing eyes to observe purply curtains and reddy carpets.

“My house is nearly all furnished with wedding presents, birthday tributes and auction bargains of happy days,” she tell proudishly. “I value them for dear associations.”

“Dear associations seldom match in color,” I narrate. She did not assimilate those words I said it.

“For instancely,” she go onwards, “there is painted fire-shovel with snow-scenery from Grandpa’s farm. I would not take considerable for that shovel.”

“How much has you been offered?” I ask to know.

But she was thinking elsewheres.

“Togo,” she otter with serious eyebrows, “there is not one drop of fire insurance on this house!”

My heart stand on end for this informations. “Then it would not pay to burn it!” I gosp.

“Daily and nightly,” she agnosticate, “I worry with brain for fear some spark or blazes might walk into my home and burn all my sweet art and dear menorandum to zero of ashes!”

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“I shall smother all arson with great cruelty,” are fire-chief promise I make.

So Hon. Mrs. Fogg donate to me one smallish volume of book entitled “First Ade to Fires.” This literature, which is bound in 4th of July color, tell me following information about fire when he gets loose:

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