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 rattle along the stony road--no sounds can be distinguished in the confusion. Away! help! away! The folks are now seen flying from the village with their goods and chattels--children in their bare shirts and with naked feet--carrying off beds and chairs, pots and pans. Has the fire spread so fearfully, or is this all the effect of fright? "Where's the fire?" "At Hans the Fiddler's." And the driver lashed his horses, and every man seemed to press forward with increased ardor to fly to the succor.