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?"