rides straight to
the church, and presently the alarm-bell is heard pealing from the
steeple.

It is no easy matter to arouse the harvest folks, after a hard day's
work, from their first sound sleep: there they lie, stretched as
unconsciously as the corn in the fields which they have reaped in the
sweat of their brow. But wake they must--there is no help for it. The
stable-boys are the first on the alert--every one anxious to win the
reward which, time out of mind, has been given to the person, who, on
the occasion of a fire, is the first to reach the engine-house with
harnessed horses. Here and there a light is seen at a cottage lattice--a
window is opened--the men come running out of doors with their coats
half drawn on, or in their shirt sleeves. The villagers all collect
about the market-house, and the cry is heard on all sides, "Where is it?
Where is the fire?"

"In Eibingen."

Question and answer were alike unneeded, for in the distance, behind the
dark pine-forest, the whole sky was illumined with a bright-red glow, in
the stillness of the night, like the glow of the setting sun; while
every now and then a shower of sparks rose into the air, as if shot out
from a blast-furnace.

The night was still and calm, and the stars shone peacefully on the
silent earth.

The horses are speedily put to the fire-engine, the buckets placed in a
row, a couple of torches lighted, and the torch-bearers stand ready on
either side holding on to the engine, which is instantly covered with
men.

"Quick! out with another pair of horses! two can't draw such a
load!"--"Down with the torches!"--"No, no; they're all right--'tis the
old way!"--"Drive off, for Heaven's sake--quick!"

Such-like exclamations resounded on all sides. Let us follow the crowd.

The engine, with its heavy load, now rolls out of the village, and
through the peaceful fields and meadows: the fruit-trees by the roadside
seem to dance past in the flickering light; and soon the crowd hurry,
helter-skelter, through the forest. The birds are awakened from sleep,
and fly about in affright, and can scarcely find their way back to their
warm nests. The forest is at length passed, and down below, in the
valley, lies the hamlet, brightly illumined as at noon-day, while
shrieks and the alarm-bell are heard, as if the flames had found a
voice.

See! what is yonder white, ghost-like form, in a fluttering dress, on
the skirts of the forest? The wheels creak, and rattl