Block · one region of the page, as the scanner read it. It may hold a whole story, part of one, several, or an advertisement; stitching blocks into articles is the next step. Text is supplied OCR.
Page 2 · column 1 of 7 · from the scan, no model involved
No, It Isnt Your House
That's Burning!
It’s a cold winter night. Sleet and rain driven by a fresh gale lash against the windows. The bed is snug and warm as you cuddle down to your dream. Suddenly the shrill moan, the insistent wail of a siren rises above the wind. You waken suddenly tense. Fire! The siren wail rises in its clamor. Fire! You rise momentarily upon one elbow listening as the siren wails on, then gradually dies out. " Your moment of terror passes, it’s not your house that is burning. The bed is snug and warm as you nuzzle in and doze off to sleep.
But somebody’s bouse is on fire! Somewhere in the cold and dark
som^e is injanger,' *cf»ooK»'-w terror.: reason. The home, the accumulations of a lifetime are going up in smoke. Somewhere an anguished, grief stricken parent may be wringing his hands helplessly because his child is trapped and he cannot reach him.
The Volunteer Fireman, too, , hears the moan of the siren. He is tired after a hard days work. He, too fafears the sleet, rattle against the windows. His bed-is ' snug and warm to him, also. But he does not snuggle back down to his dream. Hastily he crawls out of bed, pulls on his clothes and hastens to the firehouse or the scene of the fire. The night is dark and slippery as he hurtles along. iA plunging fire engine racing , through Hie night is a dangerous thing. But somebody’s life is in danger, somebody's child trapped, some anguished parent helpless, his home in flames.
Reflect a moment i It could be your house going op in roaring flatten. It eoald be your child trap
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