Medley Dialect Recitations, Comprising a Series of the Most Popular Selections in German,…

Title: Medley Dialect Recitations, Comprising a Series of the Most Popular Selections in German, French, and Scotch

Editor: George M. Baker

Release date: February 2, 2016 [eBook #51108] Most recently updated: October 22, 2024

Language: English

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/51108

Credits: Produced by Richard Tonsing, David Edwards and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive)

The cover image was created by the transcriber and is placed in the public domain.

STANDARD ELOCUTIONARY BOOKS

FIVE-MINUTE READINGS FOR YOUNG LADIES. Selected and adapted by Walter K. Fobes. Cloth. 50 cents.

FIVE-MINUTE DECLAMATIONS. Selected and adapted by Walter K. Fobes, teacher of elocution and public reader; author of "Elocution Simplified." Cloth. 50 cents.

FIVE-MINUTE RECITATIONS. By Walter K. Fobes. Cloth. 50 cents.

Pupils in public schools on declamation days are limited to five minutes each for the delivery of "pieces." There is a great complaint of the scarcity of material for such a purpose, while the injudicious pruning of eloquent extracts has often marred the desired effects. To obviate these difficulties, new "Five-Minute" books have been prepared by a competent teacher.

ELOCUTION SIMPLIFIED. With an appendix on Lisping, Stammering, and other Impediments of Speech. By Walter K. Fobes, graduate of the "Boston School of Oratory." 16mo. Cloth. 50 cents. Paper, 30 cents.

"The whole art of elocution is succinctly set forth in this small volume, which might be judiciously included among the text-books of schools."—New Orleans Picayune.

ADVANCED READINGS AND RECITATIONS. By Austin B. Fletcher, A.M., LL.B., Professor of Oratory, Brown University, and Boston University School of Law. This book has been already adopted in a large number of Universities, Colleges, Post-graduate Schools of Law and Theology, Seminaries, etc. 12mo. Cloth. $1.50.

"Professor Fletcher's noteworthy compilation has been made with rare rhetorical judgment, and evinces a sympathy for the best forms of literature, adapted to attract readers and speakers, and mould their literary taste."—Prof. J. W. Churchill, Andover Theological Seminary.

THE COLUMBIAN SPEAKER. Consisting of choice and animated pieces for declamation and reading. By Loomis J. Campbell, and Orin Root, Jun. 16mo. Cloth. 75 cents.

Mr. Campbell, as one of the editors of "Worcester's Dictionaries," the popular "Franklin Readers," and author of the successful little work, "Pronouncing Hand-Book of 3,000 Words," is well known as a thorough scholar. Mr. Root is an accomplished speaker and instructor in the West, and both, through experience knowing the need of such a work, are well qualified to prepare it. It is a genuine success.

VOCAL AND ACTION-LANGUAGE, CULTURE AND EXPRESSION. By E. N. Kirby, teacher of elocution in the Lynn High Schools. 12mo. English cloth binding. Price, $1.25.

"Teachers and students of the art of public speaking, in any of its forms, will be benefited by a liberal use of this practical hand-book."—Prof. Churchill.

KEENE'S SELECTIONS. Selection for reading and elocution. A hand-book for teachers and students. By J. W. Keene, A.M., M.D. Cloth. $1.

"An admirable selection of practical pieces."

LITTLE PIECES FOR LITTLE SPEAKERS. The primary school teacher's assistant. By a practical teacher. 16mo. Illustrated. 75 cents. Also in boards, 50 cents. Has had an immense sale.

THE MODEL SUNDAY-SCHOOL SPEAKER. Containing selections in prose and verse, from the most popular pieces and dialogues for Sunday-school exhibitions. Illust. Cloth. 75 cents. Boards, 50 cents "A book very much needed."

LEE AND SHEPARD Publishers Boston

[Pg 1]

Baker's Dialect Series

MEDLEY DIALECT RECITATIONS COMPRISING A SERIES OF THE MOST POPULAR SELECTIONS In German,…

EDITED BY

GEORGE M. BAKER

COMPILER OF "THE READING CLUB AND HANDY SPEAKER," "THE PREMIUM SPEAKER," "THE POPULAR SPEAKER," "THE PRIZE SPEAKER," "THE HANDY SPEAKER," ETC.

BOSTON LEE AND SHEPARD, PUBLISHERS NEW YORK CHARLES T. DILLINGHAM 1888

[Pg 2]

Copyright, 1887,

By GEORGE M. BAKER.

Medley Dialect Recitations.

RAND AVERY COMPANY, ELECTROTYPERS AND PRINTERS, BOSTON.

[Pg 3]

DYIN' VORDS OF ISAAC.

Vhen Shicago vas a leedle villages, dher lifed dherein py dot Clark Sdhreet out, a shentlemans who got some names like Isaacs; he geeb a cloting store, mit goots dot vit you yoost der same like dhey vas made. Isaacs vas a goot fellers, und makes goot pishness on his hause. Vell, thrade got besser as der time he vas come, und dose leetle shtore vas not so pig enuff like anudder shtore, und pooty gwick he locks out und leaves der pblace.

Now Yacob Schloffenheimer vas a shmard feller; und he dinks of he dook der olt shtore, he got good pishness, und dose olt coostomers von Isaac out. Von tay dhere comes a shentlemans on his store, und Yacob quick say of der mans, "How you vas, mein freund? you like to look of mine goots, aind it?"—"Nein," der mans say. "Vell, mein freund, it makes me notting troubles to show dot goots."—"Nein; I don'd vood buy sometings to-tay."—"Yoost come mit me vonce, mein freund, und I show you sometings, und so hellup me gracious, I don'd ask you to buy dot goots."—"Vell, I told you vat it vas, I don'd vood look at some tings yoost now; I keebs a livery shtable; und I likes to see mein old freund Mister Isaacs, und I came von Kaintucky out to see him vonce."—"Mister Isaacs? Vell, dot ish pad; I vas sorry von dot. I dells you, mein freund, Mister Isaacs he vas died. He vas mein brudder, und he vas not mit us eny more. Yoost vhen he vas on his deat-ped, und vas dyin', he says of me, 'Yacob, (dot ish mine names), und I goes me ofer mit his petside, und he poods his hands of mine, und he

says of me, 'Yacob' ofer a man he shall come von Kaintucky out, mit ret hair, und mit plue eyes, Yacob, sell him dings cheab;' und he lay ofer und died his last."

[Pg 10]

Anonymous.

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[Pg 15] 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.

[Pg 16]

"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[Pg 17] 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[Pg 18] 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?"

[Pg 19]

"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'."

[Pg 20]

"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.

[Pg 21]

"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.