Part 2

Who dakes me by der handt, unt say, "Hans Pfeiffer, how you vas to-day?" Und goes for peesnis righd avay? Der drummer.

Who sphreads his zamples in a trice, Und dells me, "Look, und see how nice!" Und says I gets "der bottom price"? Der drummer.

Who says der tings vas eggstra vine,-- "Vrom Sharmany, ubon der Rhine,"-- Und sheats me den dimes oudt of nine? Der drummer.

Who dells how sheap der goots vas bought, Mooch less as vat I gould imbort, But lets dem go as he vas "short"? Der drummer.

Who varrants all der goots to suit Der gustomers ubon his route?-- Und ven dey gomes dey vas no goot,-- Der drummer.

Who gomes aroundt ven I been oudt, Drinks oup my bier, and eates mine _kraut_, Und kiss Katrina in der mout? Der drummer.

Who, ven he gomes again dis vay, Vill hear vot Pfeiffer has to say, Und mit a plack eye goes avay? Dot drummer.

CHARLES F. ADAMS

THE YANKEE AND THE DUTCHMAN'S DOG.

Hiram was a quiet, peaceable sort of a Yankee, who lived on the same farm on which his fathers had lived before him, and was generally considered a pretty cute sort of a fellow,--always ready with a trick, whenever it was of the least utility; yet, when he did play any of his tricks, 'twas done in such an innocent manner, that his victim could do no better than take it all in good part.

Now, it happened that one of Hiram's neighbors sold a farm to a tolerably green specimen of a Dutchman,--one of the real unintelligent, stupid sort.

Von Vlom Schlopsch had a dog, as Dutchmen often have, who was less unintelligent than his master, and who had, since leaving his "faderland," become sufficiently civilized not only to appropriate the soil as common stock, but had progressed so far in the good work as to obtain his dinners from the neighbors' sheepfold on the same principle.

When Hiram discovered this propensity in the canine department of the Dutchman's family, he walked over to his new neighbor's to enter complaint, which mission he accomplished in the most natural method in the world.

"Wall, Von, your dog Blitzen's been killing my sheep."

"Ya! dat ish bace--bad. He ish von goot tog: ya! dat ish bad!"

"Sartain, it's bad; and you'll have to stop 'im."

"Ya! dat ish allas goot; but ich weis nicht."

"What's that you say? _he was niched?_ Wall, now look here, old feller! nickin's no use. Crop 'im; cut the tail off close, chock up to his trunk: that'll cure him."

"Vat ish dat?" exclaimed the Dutchman, while a faint ray of intelligence crept over his features. "Ya! dat ish goot. Dat cure von sheep steal, eh?"

"Sartain it will: he'll never touch sheep-meat again in this world," said Hiram gravely.

"Den come mit me. He von mity goot tog; all the way from Yarmany: I not take one five dollar--but come mit me, and hold his tail, eh? Ich chop him off."

"Sartain," said Hiram: "I'll hold his tail if you want me tew; but you must cut it up close."

"Ya! dat ish right. Ich make 'im von goot tog. There, Blitzen, Blitzen! come right here, you von sheep steal rashcull: I chop your tail in von two pieces."

The dog obeyed the summons; and the master tied his feet fore and aft, for fear of accident, and, placing the tail in the Yankee's hand, requested him to lay it across a large block of wood.

"Chock up," said Hiram, as he drew the butt of the tail close over the log.

"Ya! dat ish right. Now, you von tief sheep, I learns you better luck," said Von Vlom Schlopsch, as he raised the axe.

It descended; and, as it did so, Hiram, with characteristic presence of mind, gave a sudden jerk, and brought Blitzen's neck over the log; and the head rolled over the other side.

"Wall, I swow!" said Hiram with apparent astonishment, as he dropped the headless trunk of the dog: "that was a _leetle_ too close."

"Mine cootness!" exclaimed the Dutchman, "_you shust cut 'im off de wrong end_!"

SETTING A HEN.

I see dot most efferpody wrides someding for de shicken bapers nowtays, und I tought praps meppe I can do dot too, so I wride all apout vat dook blace mit me lasht summer. You know--oder uf you dond know, den I dells you--dot Katrina (dot is mein vrow) und me, ve keep some shickens for a long dime ago, und von tay she sait to me: "Sockery (dot is mein name) vy dond you put some of de aigs under dot old plue hen shickens? I dinks she vants to sate." "Vell," I sait, "meppe I guess I vill." So I picked out some uf de pest aigs und dook um oud to de parn fare de olt hen make her nesht in de side uf de hay-mow, poud five or six veet up. Now you see I nefer vas ferry pig up und town, but I vas booty pig all de vay around in de mittle, so I koodn't reach up dill I vent und got a parrel do stant on. Vell, I klimet me on de parrel, und ven my hed risht up by de nesht, dot old hen she gif me such a bick dot my nose runs all ofer my face mit plood, und ven I todge pack dot plasted old parrel he preak, und I vent town kershlam; py cholly, I didn't tink I kood go inside a parrel pefore; but dere I vos, und I fit so dite I koodn't get me oud efferway; my fest vas bushed vay up under my arm-holes.

Ven I fount I vas dite shtuck, I holler, "Katrina! Katrina!" und ven she koom und see me shtuck in de parrel up to my arm-holes, mit my face all plood und aigs, by cholly, she shust lait town on de hay und laft und laft, till I got so mat I said, "Vot you lay dere und laf like a olt vool, eh? Vy dond you koom bull me oud?" Und she sat up und said, "Oh, vipe off your chin, und bull your fest town;" den she lait back und laft like she voot split herself more as effer. Mat as I vas, I tought to myself, Katrina, she shbeak English booty goot, but I only sait, mit my greatest dignitude, "Katrina, vill you bull me oud dis parrel?" und she see dot I look booty red, so she sait, "Of course I vill, Sockery;" den she laidt me und de parrel town on our side, und I dook holt de door-sill, und Katrina she bull on de parrel; but de first bull she mate I yelled, "Donner und blitzen! sthop dat, by cholly, dere is nails in de parrel!" You see de nails pent town ven I vent in, but ven I koom oud dey schticks in me all de vay rount.

Vell, to make a short shtory long, I told Katrina to go und dell naper Hansman to pring a saw und saw me dis parrel off. Vell, he koom und he like to shblit himself mit laf, too; but he roll me ofer, und saw de parrel all de vay around off, und I git up mit haf a parrel round my vaist; den Katrina she say, "Sockery, vait a little till I get a battern of dot new ofer-skirt you haf on;" but I didn't sait a vort. I shust got a knife oud und vittle de hoops off, und shling dot confountet old parrel in dot voot-pile. Pimeby, ven I koom in de house, Katrina she sait, so soft like, "Sockery, dond you goin to put some aigs under dot olt plue hen?" Den I sait, in my deepest woice, "Katrina, uf you uffer say dot to me again, I'll git a pill from you--help me chiminy gracious!" und I dell you, she didn't say dot any more! Vell, ven I shtep on a parrel now, I dond shtep on it; I git a pox.

"WHAT'S THE MATTER WITH THAT NOSE?"

Snyder kept a beer-saloon some years ago "over the Rhine." Snyder was a ponderous Teuton of very irascible temper,--"sudden and quick in quarrel,"--get mad in a minute. Nevertheless his saloon was a great resort for the boys,--partly because of the excellence of his beer, and partly because they liked to chafe "old Snyder" as they called him; for, although his bark was terrific, experience had taught them that he wouldn't bite.

One day Snyder was missing; and it was explained by his "frau," who "jerked" the beer that day, that he had "gone out fishing mit der poys." The next day one of the boys, who was particularly fond of "roasting" old Snyder, dropped in to get a glass of beer, and discovered Snyder's nose, which was a big one at any time, swollen and blistered by the sun, until it looked like a dead-ripe tomato.

"Why, Snyder, what's the matter with your nose?" said the caller.

"I peen out fishing mit der poys," replied Snyder, laying his finger tenderly against his proboscis: "the sun it pes hot like ash der tifel, unt I purns my nose. Nice nose, don't it?" And Snyder viewed it with a look of comical sadness in the little mirror back of his bar. It entered at once into the head of the mischievous fellow in front of the bar to play a joke upon Snyder; so he went out and collected half a dozen of his comrades, with whom he arranged that they should drop in at the saloon one after another, and ask Snyder, "What's the matter with that nose?" to see how long he would stand it. The man who put up the job went in first with a companion, and, seating themselves at a table called for beer. Snyder, brought it to them; and the new-comer exclaimed as he saw him, "Snyder, what's the matter with your nose?"

"I yust dell your frient here I peen out fishin' mit der poys, unt the sun he purnt 'em--zwi lager--den cents--all right."

Another boy rushes in. "Halloo, boys, you're ahead of me this time: s'pose I'm in, though. Here, Snyder, bring me a glass of lager and a pret"--(appears to catch a sudden glimpse of Snyder's nose, looks wonderingly a moment, and then bursts out laughing)--"ha! ha! ha! Why, Snyder,--ha!--ha!--what's the matter with that nose?"

Snyder, of course, can't see any fun in having a burnt nose or having it laughed at; and he says, in a tone sternly emphatic,--

"I've peen out fishing mit der poys, unt de sun it juse as hot like ash dar tifel, unt I purnt my nose; dat ish all right."

Another tormentor comes in, and insists on "setting 'em up" for the whole house. "Snyder," says he, "fill up the boys' glasses, and take a drink yourse----ho! ho! ho! ho! ha! ha! ha! Snyder, wha--ha! ha!--what's the matter with that nose?"

Snyder's brow darkens with wrath by this time, and his voice grows deeper and sterner,--

"I peen out fishin' mit der poys on der Leedle Miami. De sun pese hot like as--vel, I purn my pugle. Now, that is more vot I don't got to say. Vot gind o' peseness? Dat ish all right; I purn my own nose, don't it?"

"Burn your nose,--burn all the hair off your head, for what I care; you needn't get mad about it."

It was evident that Snyder wouldn't stand more than one more tweak at that nose; for he was tramping about behind his bar, and growling like an exasperated old bear in his cage. Another one of his tormentors walks in. Some one sings out to him, "Have a glass of beer, Billy?"

"Don't care about any beer," says Billy, "but, Snyder, you may give me one of your best ciga--Ha-a-a! ha! ha! ha! ho! ho! ho! he! he! he! ah-h-h-ha! ha! ha! ha! Why--why--Snyder--who--who--ha-ha! ha! what's the matter with that nose?"

Snyder was absolutely fearful to behold by this time; his face was purple with rage, all except his nose, which glowed like a ball of fire. Leaning his ponderous figure far over the bar, and raising his arm aloft to emphasize his words with it, he fairly roared,--

"I've been out fishin' mit ter poys. The sun it pese hot like ash never vas. I purnt my nose. Now you no like dose nose, you yust take yose nose unt wr-wr-wr-wring your mean American finger mit em! That's the kind of man vot I am!"

And Snyder was right.

OUR FAT CONTRIBUTOR.

KEEPIN' THE DE'IL OOT.

He cam' to the door o' my heart the nicht Wat Birney kilt puir dog Speed for worritin' his Sou'-Downs.

An' the De'il was a bra knocker. "Dugald Moir," he ca'd, loud an' lang, "opit the door!"

"Nay," said I. "You maun stay oot."

"But I ha'e summat to say."

"I dinna care to listen."

"It's a bit o' gude advice."

"Keep it, then. You'll need it afore you dee."

"But it's aboot Wat Birney. He murdered your auld dog Speed. You maun ha'e revenge."

"The colley was trespassin'."

"Ay, but Wat kilt him i' cauld blood."

"Weel, he had often warnt us baith to keep off o' his groun'."

"But Wat Birney's bin a bad naybor for years."

"An' sae ha'e I, for the matter o' that. We dinna speak."

"Speed's death maun be revenged. Set Wat's fat straw-stack afire. It wad mak' a gran' blaze."

"Nay, nay!" I cried. "Gae lang noo. I willna be your partner i' ony sich doin's!"

At that, the De'il bided awee. But I cud hear him lashin' his tail just outside my heart-door. It was bolted an' barred sae that he cudna walk i'. "Dugald Moir," he ca'd again, "ha'e you buried puir Speed?"

"Nay, Mister De'il. I canna pairt wi' him juist noo."

"Wat's Sou'-Downs will nibble the sod aboon his grave. Better pop owre ane or twa o' them. You ca' then feed your loss wi' a bit o' roast mutton. It wad ainly be tooth for tooth."

"I daurna, auld Timpter. The Maister's Book says: 'Return gude for evil.' Wat's Sou'-Downs are nae mine to kill an' eat."

"Hoot, mon! Was Speed his ain dog to shoot doon i' a minit?"

"But he was worritin' the wee lambs o' the flock."

Here the De'il knockit hard an' strong. "Dugald Moir, Wat ha'e a dog o' his ain. Ca' him up, an' treat him to a bit o' poisoned meat. That wad ainly be tit for tat."

"Nay, again, Mister De'il. Wat's dog Bruce ance fished my bairn oot o' the burn. He's a bra' beast, an' weel worth twa o' puir, meddlin' Speed."

"But that wad ainly mak' your revenge completer."

"I willna tak' revenge. I'll do Wat sum gude turn i' place o' it. I maun heap coals o' fire on his head."

Then the De'il knockit ance mair. "Dugald Moir, I thocht you a mon o' spirit! You'll be the butt o' the country-side. Get even wi' Wat Birney while you ca'. It isna yet too late. He's cumin' up the glen. Speed's killin' was an insult; wipe it oot wi' your fists."

"But sister Bel luvs the lad. He'll be my ain brither sune. I wauna lift a han' to my brither."

"Whist! ha's nae mair your brither than I!"

"Nay, an' thank God for that las'! Gang awa'. You canna enter the heart o' Dugald Moir."

There was a knock at the hoose door just then; an' Wat Birney hissel' entered, wi' Bruce at his heels. Puir Speed lay deid between us.

"W'at wad you ha'e?" I asked, stern-loike, for the De'il was batterin's awa' at my heart's door.

The lad held oot his han'. "I ha'e cam' to mak' peace. We maun be friends."

But I turned awa' i' anger. "We canna. Dinna ask it."

Ay, but the De'il was knockit fas' an' loud then. But Wat Birney cud not ken.

"Bruce ha'e cam' to tak' Speed's place," he said.

It was a bra' giftie, but I wadna heed. "I dinna want him," I cried. "Bring Speed bac' to life--if you ca'."

"I wish I cud, mon, for Bel's sake. We mauna quarrel."

"Knockit him doon!" shouted the De'il, shrill as a bagpipe.

I lifted my arm; but Wat was such a slender lad, I cudna strike.

"Dinna you do it, Dugald. I canna forgi'e a blow," he said. "I kilt puir Speed, but I'm baith ready an' willin' to gi'e you Bruce i' his stead. It will ainly be a fair exchange. Here's the colley, an' my han' on it. Cum, naybor, what say you?"

"Say you willna ha'e his beast or his friendship," whispered the De'il, peerin' i' through my heart's window.

An' I said it.

There were tears i' honest Wat's blu' een. "I'm sair fashed, Dugald. I canna gae hame wi'oot your forgi'eness. It's w'at I cam' for, an' I maun ha'e it. Dinna you min' the day I picht Jeanie oot o' the burn? Ha'e you forgotten that, mon? Bruce an' I togither saved the lassie's life."

"Speed's murder ha'e crosst that oot," I cried.

The De'il was for climbin' richt i' then, but I kept him bac' wi' my next words. "Wat Birney, I may forgi'e you i' time, but it will ainly be for Bel's sake. Gang awa'. The De'il is at wark. I'm nae my ainsel' this nicht. Tak' puir Speed oot, an' bury him. I canna."

The lad fell doon at my feet. "I maun ha'e your forgi'eness first, Dugald Moir. Bel loves us baith, an' we maun love each ither. Say the word noo; say, Wat, it's a' forgi'en an' forgotten." I thocht o' bonnie sister Bel, an' said the words owre; but my heart wasna i' them.

"You dinna mean it," said Wat sadly; "but I'll bury Speed a' the same."

Then he went oot, draggin' the deid beast after him. I followed a' unnoticed. Doon i' the glen he dug Speed's grave, an' laid the colley i' it. When he had finished, he knelt aboon it, an' just prayed aloud.

"Lord, forgi'e this day's hasty deed, an' help Dugald Moir to forgi'e it too. He's sair angry wi' me, an' nae wi'oot cause. But thee kens dog Speed weel earned my bullet. Ainly an hour sin he mangled two o' my best Sou'-Downs. But Dugald's hate is worse than a'. I maun ha'e the mon's love an' friendship."

The De'il ga've a great boun' and left my heart's door as I rushed roun' to Wat's side.

"You shall ha'e baith frae this minit," I cried. An' then my arm stole 'boot the lad's neck, juist as I had seen Bel's do on mony a moonlit nicht. He looked at me, bewildered.

"I didna dream you wod hear. But it's juist God's ain gude answer. An' noo you'll tak' Bruce i' Speed's place."

"Yes," I said; for the De'il had vanished.

Slowly we walked bac' to the hoose. Bel met us wi' a kiss for baith, her black een beamin' wi' love and gladness.

She wedded Wat sune after, an' for forty lang years he ha'e been a bra', true brither. The De'il hasna visited me sin'.

_Mrs. Findley Braden._

THE PUZZLED CENSUS-TAKER.

"_Nein_" (pronounced _nine_) is the German for "_No_."

"Got any boys?" the marshal said To a lady from over the Rhine; And the lady shook her flaxen head, And civilly answered, "_Nein!_"

"Got any girls?" the marshal said To the lady from over the Rhine; And again the lady shook her head, And civilly answered, "_Nein!_"

"But some are dead?" the marshal said To the lady from over the Rhine; And again the lady shook her head, And civilly answered, "_Nein!_"

"Husband, of course," the marshal said To the lady from over the Rhine; And again she shook her flaxen head, And civilly answered, "_Nein!_"

"The devil you have!" the marshal said To the lady from over the Rhine; And again she shook her flaxen head, And civilly answered "_Nein!_"

"Now, what do you mean by shaking your head, And always answering 'Nine?'" "_Ich kann nicht Englisch!_" civilly said The lady from over the Rhine.

JOHN G. SAXE.

DUTCH SECURITY.

Said Jake Metzenmaker to his sweetheart:

"Loweeza, you vas a poody gal!"

To which that bright-eyed young German damsel replied, "Shake, dot vas nice; say it again."

"Py golly!" Jake exclaimed; "you vas more peautiful ash a budder-cup, and I hope you vill marry me right away."

Then that sensible young woman responded:

"Shake, I like dot marriage idea poody vell. I pelieve me it vas a sensible peezness. Und I like you, Shake, more ash a gooble dimes. But I vants seguridy."

"Vants seguridy! I undershtand no such dhings," said Jake in amazement.

"Nein? Right avay I dole you. Ouf you read dose babers, you find out it vas a great peezness by married fellers to run aroundt the saloon, und don't like to vork, und oufter the vife say some dhings she got a plack eye, and then she vas goome by the bolice court for some seguridy for make him do petter."

"Put you don't vas pelieve I do such a dhings, Loweeza? I schwear dot, my lofe--"

"Schwear vas a leedle fence not more ash a gooble feed high, und you shump over him ash easy ash you like. I pelieve you vas righdt now, Shake. Put there vas a great risk, und I vant some seguridy for dose dime vhen you vill be poss."

"Und you von'd marry me vidout dot seguridy?"

"I pelieve me, Shake, it vas petter ve got him now, ask py-und-py ouf dot bolice court--ain'd id?"

"Vell, vat seguridy you vant?"

"I dink, anyvay, a tousand tollar pond vould be apout right."

"A tousand tollars! I don't ouver I find some man vhat like to schain hisself by such a gueldt."

"If you don'd could find a friend mit dot much gonfidence py you, Shake, vhat sort of a shance you dink I dake?"

THE FRENCHMAN AND THE RATS.

A Frenchman once, who was a merry wight, Passing to town from Dover, in the night, Near the roadside an alehouse chanced to spy, And being rather tired, as well as dry, Resolved to enter; but first he took a peep, In hopes a supper he might get, and cheap. He enters. "Hallo, garçon, if you please, Bring me a leetel bit of bread and cheese, And hallo, garçon, a pot of porter, too!" he said, "Vich I shall take, and den myself to bed."

His supper done, some scraps of cheese were left, Which our poor Frenchman, thinking it no theft, Into his pocket put; then slowly crept To wished-for bed. But not a wink he slept; For on the floor some sacks of flour were laid, To which the rats a nightly visit paid. Our hero now undressed, popped out the light, Put on his cap, and bade the world good-night; But first his breeches, which contained the fare, Under his pillow he had placed with care.

_Sans ceremonie_, soon the rats all ran, And on the flour-sacks greedily began, At which they gorged themselves; then, smelling round, Under the pillow soon the cheese they found; And, while at this they all regaling sat, Their happy jaws disturbed the Frenchman's nap; Who, half-awake, cries out, "Hallo, hallo! Vat is dat nibble at my pillow so? Ah, 'tis one big--one very big, huge rat! Vat is it that he nibble, nibble at?"

In vain our little hero sought repose; Sometimes the vermin galloped o'er his nose. And such the pranks they kept up all the night That he, on end,--antipodes upright,-- Bawling aloud, called stoutly for a light. "Hallo, maison, garçon, I say! Bring me the bill for what I have to pay." The bill was brought; and, to his great surprise, Ten shillings was the charge. He scarce believed his eyes. With eager haste, he quickly runs it o'er, And every time he viewed it thought it more.

"Vy, zounds and zounds!" he cries, "I sall no pay; Vat! charge ten shelangs for what I have _mangé_? A leetel sop of portar, dis vile bed, Vare all de rats do run about my head?" "Plague on those rats!" the landlord muttered out; "I wish, upon my word, that I could make 'em scout: I'll pay him well that can."--"Vat's dat you say?" "I'll pay him well that can."--"Attend to me, I pray: Vill you dis charge forego, vat I am at, If from your house I drive away de rat?" "With all my heart," the jolly host replies. "_Ecoutez donc, ami_," the Frenchman cries. "_First den,--regardez_, if you please,-- Bring to dis spot a leetel bread and cheese: _Eh bien!_ a pot of porter too; And den invite de rats to sup vid you; And after dat,--no matter dey be villing,-- For vat dey eat, you _charge_ dem just _ten shelang_: And I am sure, ven dey behold de score, Dey'll quit your house, and _never come no more_."

HEINZ VON STEIN.

Out rode from his wild, dark castle The terrible Heinz von Stein; He came to the door of a tavern, And gazed on the swinging sign.

He sat himself down at a table, And growled for a bottle of wine; Up came, with a flask and a corkscrew, A maiden of beauty divine.

Then, seized with a deep love longing, He uttered, "O damosel mine, Suppose you just give a few kisses To the valorous Ritter von Stein!"

But she answered, "The kissing business Is entirely out of my line; And I certainly will not begin it On a countenance ugly as thine."

Oh, then the bold knight was angry, And cursed both coarse and fine; And asked, "How much is the swindle For your sour and nasty wine?"

And fiercely he rode to the castle, And set himself down to dine. And this is the dreadful legend Of the terrible Heinz von Stein.

_Charles G. Leland, from the German._

THE SOLEMN BOOK-AGENT.