Clang, clatter, bang! Down the street came the fire engines.
Driving along ahead, oblivious of any danger, was a farmer in a ramshackle old buggy. A policeman yelled at him: "Hi there, look out! The fire department's coming."
Turning in by the curb the farmer watched the hose cart, salvage wagon and engine whiz past. Then he turned out into the street again and drove on. Barely had he started when the hook and ladder came tearing along. The rear wheel of the big truck slewed into the farmer's buggy, smashing it to smithereens and sending the farmer sprawling into the gutter. The policeman ran to his assistance.
"Didn't I tell ye to keep out of the way?" he demanded crossly. "Didn't I tell ye the fire department was comin"?"
"Wall, consarn ye," said the peeved farmer, "I did git outer the way for th' fire department. But what in tarnation was them drunken painters in sech an all-fired hurry fer?"
Two Irishmen fresh from Ireland had just landed in New York and engaged a room in the top story of a hotel. Mike, being very sleepy, threw himself on the bed and was soon fast asleep. The sights were so new and strange to Pat that he sat at the window looking out. Soon an alarm of fire was rung in and a fire-engine rushed by throwing up sparks of fire and clouds of smoke. This greatly excited Pat, who called to his comrade to get up and come to the window, but Mike was fast asleep. Another engine soon followed the first, spouting smoke and fire like the former. This was too much for poor Pat, who rushed excitedly to the bedside, and shaking his friend called loudly:
"Mike, Mike, wake up! They are moving Hell, and two loads have gone by already."