He replied, "I think I can recall several stanzas of 'Das Alt Schulhaus an der Krick.' Another of Professor Harbaugh's poems, and I think one of the sweetest I have ever read, is 'Heemweeh.' Both poems are published in his book entitled 'Harbaugh's Harfe,' in Pennsylvania German dialect, and possess additional interest from the fact that the translations of these poems, in the latter part of the same book, were made by the author himself." "Oh, do repeat all that you remember of both the poems," begged Mary. The Professor consented, saying: "As neither you nor Mr. Jackson understand the Pennsylvania German dialect, I shall translate them for you, after repeating what I remember. 'Heemweeh' means Homesickness, but first I shall give you 'Das Alt Schulhaus an der Krick'." [A]DAS ALT SCHULHAUS AN DER KRICK. Heit is 's 'xactly zwansig Johr, Dass ich bin owwe naus; Nau bin ich widder lewig z'rick Un schteh am Schulhaus an d'r Krick, Juscht neekscht an's Dady's Haus. Ich bin in hunnert Heiser g'west, Vun Marbelstee' un Brick, Un alles was sie hen, die Leit, Dhet ich verschwappe eenig Zeit For's Schulhaus an der Krick. * * * * * Der Weisseech schteht noch an der Dhier-- Macht Schatte iwwer's Dach: Die Drauwerank is ah noch grie'-- Un's Amschel-Nescht--guk juscht mol hi'-- O was is dess en Sach! * * * * * Do bin ich gange in die Schul, Wo ich noch war gans klee'; Dort war der Meeschter in seim Schtuhl, Dort war sei' Wip, un dort sei' Ruhl,-- Ich kann's noch Alles sch'. Die lange Desks rings an der Wand-- Die grose Schieler drum; Uf eener Seit die grose Mad, Un dort die Buwe net so bleed-- Guk, wie sie piepe rum! * * * * * Oh horcht, ihr Leit, wu nooch mir lebt, Ich schreib eich noch des Schtick: Ich warn eich, droll eich, gebt doch Acht, Un memmt uf immer gut enacht, Des Schulhaus an der Krick! [Footnote A: From "Harbaugh's Harfe." Published by the Publication and Sunday School Board of the Reformed Church, Philadelphia, Pa. Used by permission.] THE OLD SCHOOL-HOUSE AT THE CREEK. Today it is just twenty years, Since I began to roam; Now, safely back, I stand once more, Before the quaint old school-house door, Close by my father's home. I've been in many houses since, Of marble built, and brick; Though grander far, their aim they miss, To lure heart's old love from this Old school-house at the creek. * * * * * The white-oak stands before the door, And shades the roof at noon; The grape-vine, too, is fresh and green; The robin's nest!--Ah, hark!--I ween That is the same old tune! * * * * *