The approach of spring was there commemorated with an abundance of display, its allegorical character was its most remarkable feature. It was called _Der Sommers-gewinn_, the acquisition of summer; and about thirty years ago was celebrated at the beginning of spring by the inhabitants of Eisenach, in Saxony, who, for that purpose, divided themselves into two parties. One party carried _winter_ under the shape of a man covered with straw, out of the town, and then, as it were, sent him into public exile; whilst the other party, at a distance from the town, decked _spring_, or, as it was vulgarly called, summer, in the form of youth, with boughs of cypress and May, and marched in solemn array to meet their comrades, the jocund executioners of winter. In the meanwhile national ballads, celebrating the delights of spring and summer, filled the skies; processions paraded the meadows and fields, loudly imploring the blessings of a prolific summer; and the jovial merry-makers then brought the victor-god home in triumph. In the course of time, however, this ceremonial underwent various alterations. The parts, before personified, were now performed by real dramatis personæ; one arrayed as spring, and another as winter, entertained the spectators with a combat, wherein winter was ultimately vanquished and stripped of his emblematical attire; spring, on the contrary, being hailed as victor, was led in triumph, amidst the loud acclamations of the multitude, into the town. From this festival originated a popular ballad, composed of stanzas each of which conclude thus: Heigho! heigho! heigho! Summer is at hand! Winter has lost the game, Summer maintain’d its fame; Heigho! heigho! heigho! Summer is at hand! The day whereon the jubilee takes place is denominated _der Todten sonntag_, the dead Sunday. The reason may be traced perhaps to the analogy which winter bears to the sleep of death, when the vital powers of nature are suspended. The conjecture is strengthened by this distich in the ballad before quoted: Now we’ve vanquish’d _Death_, And Summer’s return ensured: Were _Death_ still unsubdued, How much had we endured!