The Columbus commercial. (Columbus, Miss.) 1893-1922, 1895-12-08
ADDRESS OF Mr.. JOHN L. JOHNSON.
Delivered at the Lurline Supper on
Wednesday Evening. December 4.

Mr.. President and Gentlemen:
appear before you this evening with
double share Of gratitude. First, be-
cause you have seen fit TO honor me-
with an invitation to your annual ban
quet, and then in that you have select
ed me to welcome those who are equally
fortunate with myself in partaking
Of your hospitality. / would that you
had chosen one whose efforts would
cast no shadow upon your judgment;
one from whose silver tongue the gold
en- flowers Of rhetoric would flow as the
sparkling waters from the ripping
fountain. But love this dear old city
Of Columbus; I love the turbid river
that washes against its stately bluffs;
love the balmy breezes that kiss it
and the blue skies that bend so tenderly
over it, love its people, for was a
stranger and they took me NOT in;
love its girls, for nowhere have they
brighter eyes, sweeter faces and more
beguiling ways. And in the Lurline
Fire company, especially, I have friends
whose friendship has been weighed in
the balances and has not been found
wanting. So, while there are many
who could far surpass any public at
tempt at oratory might make, there Is
no one who has deeper and more sim
eere interest in your welfare than my
self.
Gentlemen, you occupy most impor-
tant position in the city of Columbus.
OF what avail were it to build these
solid business blocks, to eject these
magnificent houses of worship, to dot
this city with beautiful homes, did you
not stand between them and the ever
threatening fiames2 There is not cit
izen of Columbus tonight who does not
rest easier because he knows you will
watch oyer and protect his propertyi
there is not a child who does not lay
his head upon his pillow IN perfect con-
fidenee and trust IN you. And where
could you find a more fitting and appro-
pirate place to celebrate your anniver-
sary than this very building, which
"Old Sydney" and the LuTline Fire
Company saved from the flames a dozen
years ago. Those charred and black
ened rafters are silent but eloquent wit
nesses Of your courage and efficiency.
The fireman's life is fraught with dan
ger and efficiency. Perchance Ills
night, and as he sleeps bright visions of
l0veliness glide by in his dreams. But
harki-far of THROUGH the niRht comes
the sound OF frantic bells; the breeze
swells with the cry of fret fret frel
until the very trees take voice and join
the delirious chorus. That beautiful
home, the pride of its owner, is wrapt in
the hungry embrace of the tire-fiend,
and far above it the glowing flames leap
heavenward like banners of some
mighty host waving in glorious victory.
But that victory is not yet won, for ere
the alarm has died away the gallant
firemen are there, here, everywhere
that danger threatens and duty calls
they may be found. But though they
perform countless deeds of daring, it is
too late--the house is doomed. Are all
saved? The shrinking mother draws
her little ones around her, and, beholdi
the youngest girl is missingl And see,
in that topmost window baby face is
pressed against the glassl Can she be
saved2 The whole of that side Is ablaze;
to reach that window is certain death,
but does a fireman hesitate? No, not
one. In moment two Of the longest
ladders are spliced together; they are
placed against che window, and then,
amidst a death-like silence, broken
only by the shrIeks of the agOnized
mother, a young fireman mounts the
ladder and disappears in the smoke and
flames. Now he has reached the win
dow, and when he leans in and takes
the little child in his arms, q mighty
shout rends the air. He clasps her in
one arm and begins the perilOus down
ward journey. At every step the dan
ger increases, for the breath Of the
flames has touched the ladder and il
quivers as the slender aspen in the
summer breeze. Farther down he
comes, and farther and farther. If he
can pass that gauntlet Of fire they are
safe. But lookl the ladder trembles,
wavers, totters, and goes down to a fiery
grave, carrying its precious burden of
man and child. They lift up the little
child safe and unhurt-scarcely an
eyebrow scorched-but the brave heart
of the fireman is stilled forever. Lift
him up gentlyi straighten with rever-
ence the bruised and mangled limbs;
fold the arms gently upon his breast
and lay upon his brow the wreath OF
priceless immortelles that dead heroes
wear, for meyer hero died q more heroic
death.
But the story Of a fireman's life is not
all tragedy. There are times when the
humorous predominates. A while ago
took passage from Savannah to New
York in one of those floating ocean pal
aces. on such a steamer all trades are
represented, and among them is a COM
plete fire department. 1t is customary
to give false fire alarms at intervals to
exercise the department. and at such
times all the passengers are notified.
One day, when the thermometer regis
tered zoe in the shade, went to my
cabin in search Of a cool spot, and, tax
ing OF my clothes, I put on a long white