HOW JAKE SCHNEIDER WENT BLIND.
In Germantown, near Philadelphia, several years ago, a native, simple-minded Dutchman, named Jacob Schneider, kept a liquor and lager-beer saloon. Jacob was not only fond of drinking lager with his customers, but would not refuse either corn-juice, red-eye, or Jersey lightning, when asked to imbibe thereof in a social way—the customer, of course, paying an extra half-dime for Jacob's drink. One would not suppose that this friendly habit could, by any possibility, bring trouble and vexation upon honest Jacob; but it did, as we shall presently show.
One eventful night it was observed that Schneider had shut up his saloon and gone home full an hour earlier than usual. Being asked, next day, what was the matter, he told the following droll story:—
"I shut up mine blace pecause I vas mat as ter tyfel, and vas humpugged into der pargain. I'll tell you 'pout it. Yer see, dree or four young shcamps gomes into mine saloon, and one says to me, 'Yacob, you got some fresh lager?' I says 'yaas,' and I draws der lager; anoder von says he vants gards, and I prings de gards, and da blays gards. Pimeby noder says, 'Yacob, old poy, let's have some red-eye! and mind you, Yacob, pring an extra glass for yourself.' Vell den, I prings der pottle of ret-eye, and da drinks two dree dimes, and I drinks mit 'em two dree dimes; and I gets so tam trunk dat I lies down on der pench and goes to shleep. Ven I vakes up, der room ish dark as der tyfel, put I hears der young chaps calling der gards; von says, 'bass!' nodder says, 'left power!—right power!' den nodder von, he says, 'uker'd!' and shwears like a drooper. Da vas all blaying at der taple, shust as da vas ven I goes to shleep, but mine eyes vas nix—I could shust see notting at all—the room vas bitch dark. So I dinks I vas plind, and I feel pad, and I cry out, 'Oh, mine Gott! I p'lieve I'm shtruck plind!' Den der young chaps leaves der taple and gomes vhere I vas, and makes p'leeve da very sorry. One says, 'Poor Yacob! you can no see—vat vill der poor man's vamerly do!' Nodder call me poor cuss, and says I no pusiness to trink noding stronger dan lager. I got mat den—mat as dunder—and I says to him, 'Vy, den, you vants me to drink it mit you? I p'leeve you put shtuff in der liquor to make me plind!' Den he laughs at me, and says I needn't trink if I didn't pe a mind to. Shust den von little poy gomes to der door mit a lantern, and I finds der drick da vas blaying me—I see shust as goot as ever! Der rascals had plow out der lights, and make p'leeve play uker to vool me! I told 'em 'twas all humpug, and they petter glear out, for I vouldn't light up no more. Dat's vat mine shaloon vas shut up for."
THE DUTCHMAN AND THE RAVEN.
Vonce upon a midnite dreary, as I pondered, veak and veary,
Ofer many a glass of lager, vot I drank in days of yore,
In my bed I vas faschd nabbing, ven I dream I heert some dapping,
As if some von gently drowing brickbats at my voodshed door;
"Dis dot Snyder poy," I muttered, "trying to preak my voodshed door—
Only dis, und noding more."
Yah, disdinctly I remember, it was in dot pleak December,
Und each seberate dying ember vos gone oud long pefore;
Dot nide I felt quoide heardy, for Louise vent to a bardy,
Und of cause I drunk more lager as I nefer did pefore;
But schdill I know dot somedings sthruck my oudside voodshed door—
Only dot, und noding more.
From oud mine bed I makes von jumb, und see vot vos dis drubble,
Mine Got! vot makes mine legs so veak? I feel so not pefore;
I sckarce could valk, I could not talk, mine mind was in a muddle;
But I dought vas Johnny Snyder dryin' to open schud mine door,
Und mit cabbage-sdumps to hit me, as he often doned pefore—
Dis I said, und noding more.
Py und py I vos got praver; den I takes mine gun and sabre,
Und schloly valks, midout mine pants, up to mine voodshed door;
Und dare for von half hour I sdood mitout no power,
So veak I vos I could not lift mine hands up any more;
But at vonce I got more polder, und I opened vide de door—
Plack as darkness, noding more.