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"Dere ish drunks all full mit money
"Shoost look at dese shpoons und vatches!
Shoost see dese diamant rings!
Coom down und full your bockets,
Und I'll giss you like averydings.
"Vot you vantsh mit your schnapps und lager?
Der ish pottles der Kaiser Charlemagne
Dat fetched him-he shtood all shpellpound;
She drawed him oonder der wasser,
Breitmann in Battle
"Tunc tapfre ausführere Streitum et Rittris dignum potuere erjägere lobum "
Der Fader und der Son
"I DINKS I'll go a fitin"-outspoke der Breitmann, "It's eighteen hoonderd fordy-eight since I kits swordt in hand; Deese fourdeen years mit Hecker all roostin I haf been, Boot now I kicks der Teufel oop and goes for sailin in."
"If you go land out-ridin," said Caspar Pickletongue, "Foost ding you knows you cooms across some repels prave
Away down Sout' in Tixey, dey'll split you like a clam""For dat," spoke out der Breitmann, "I doos not gare one tam!
"Who der Teufel pe's de repels und vhere dey kits deir sass, If dey make a run on Breitmann he'll soon let out de gas; I'll shplit dem like kartoffels: I'll slog em on de kop;
I'll set de plackguarts roonin so dey don't know vhere to shtop."
Und den outshpoke der Breitmann, mit his schlaeger py his side:
"Forvarts, my pully landsmen! it's dime to run und ride; Will riden, will fighten-der Copitain I'll pe,
sporn und horn und saddle now-all in de Cavallrie!"
Und ash dey rode troo Winchester, so herrlich to pe seen,
"You're dressed oop like a shentleman mit your plackguard Yankee crew,
You mudsils and meganics! Der Teufel put you troo!
Mit some oldt voomans for a noorse"-der Breitmann laugh mit shkorn.
"Und should I trink mein lager-bier und roost mine self to
Ife got too many dings like you to mash beneat' my thoom:
In many a fray und fierce foray dis Deutschman will be feared Pefore he stops dis vightin trade-'twas dere he grayed his
"I pools dat peard out by de roots-I gifes him sooch a dwist Dill all de plood roons out, you tamned old Apolitionist! Your creenpacks mit your swordt und watch right ofer you moost shell,
Und den you goes to Libby straight-und after dat to h-ll!" "Mein creenpacks und mein schlaeger, I kits 'em in New
To gife dem up to creenhorns, young man, is not de talk;" De heroes shtopped deir sassin' here und grossed deir sabres
Und de vay dese Deutschers vent to vork vos von pig ding on
Der younger fetch de older such a gottallmachty smack
Der Breitmann dinks he really hears his skool go shplit und
Der repel choomps dwelfe paces back, und so he safe his life: Der Breitmann says: "I guess dem choomps you learns dem of your vife."
"If I should learn of vomans I dinks it vere a shame, Bei Gott I am a shentleman, aristograt, and game.
My fader vos anoder-I lose him fery young
Ter Teufel take your soul! Coom on! I'll split your waggin' tongue!"
A Yankee drick der Breitmann dried-dat oldt gray-pearded
For ash the repel raised his swordt, beneat' dat swordt he ran.
All roundt der shlim yoong repel's waist his arms oldt Breitmann pound,
Und shlinged him down oopon his pack und laidt him on der ground.
"Who rubs against olt kittle-pots may keep vite-if he can,
"I don't know nix apout Ideas—no more dan pout Saint Paul,
"Mein fader's name vas Breitmann, I heard mein mutter say,
"Ve'll hafe some trinks on strengt of dis-or else may I pe tam'd!"
"Oh! fader, how I shlog your kop," der younger Breitmann
"I'd den dimes sooner had it coom right down on mine own headt!"
"Oh, never mind-dat soon dry oop-I shticks him mit a
If I had shplit you like a fish, dat vere an vorse tisasder."
Dis fight did last all afternoon-wohl to de fesper tide,
How stately rode der Breitmann oop!-how lordly he kit down?
How glorious from de great pokal he drink de bier so prown! But der Yunger bick der parrel oop and schwig him all at one. "Bei Gott! dat settles all dis dings-I know dou art mein son!"
Der one has got a fader; de oder found a child.
Bote ride oopon one war-path now in pattle fierce und wild
A Musical Duel
"I KNOW a story," suddenly exclaimed Count d'Egerlyn, one evening as we were taking supper at our parlor in the St. Nicholas, in New York. Now if the count had suddenly sung, "I know a bank whereon the wild thyme blows," he would not have excited more astonishment. For though the count was a gentleman of wit, a finished cosmopolite, and a thorough good fellow, and had moreover a beautiful wife, he was never known to tell tales of any description, either in school or out of it.
At the word up started Wolf Short and young C—, the latter declaring that he was, like Time, all ears, while the former, listening as if dreaming,