Der Breitmann 'low, dat 'pentence, Ish known in efery glime, Und dat to grin und bear it Vas healty und soopline. "For mine Sout German Catolicks, Id vas pe goot, I know; Likevise dem Nordland Luterans, If vonce to shoorsh dey go. "Boot how vas id mit oders Who dinks philosophie? I don't begreif de matter," Said Stossenheim: "Denn see. De more dat shoorsh disgoostet you, Und make despise und bain, De crater merid ish to go, Und de crater ish your gain. "I know a liddle shoorsh mineself, Oopon de Bole Jack road: (De rebs vonce shot dree Federals dere, Ash into shoorsh dey goed.) Dere you might make a bilcrimage, Und do id in a tay: Gott only knows vot dings you mighdt Bick oop, oopon de vay." Denn oop dere shpoke a contrapand, Vas at de tent id's toor- "Dere's twenty bar'ls of whiskey, hid, In dat tabernacle, shore. A rebel he done gone and put It in de cellar, true, No libin man dat secret knows, 'Cept only me an' you." Der Stossenheim, he grossed himself, Und knelt peside de fence, Und gried: "O Coptain Breitmannn, see, Die finger Providence." Der Breitmann droed his hat afay, Says he, "Pe't hit or miss, I'fe heard of miragles pefore, Boot none so hunk ash dis." "Wohlauf mine pully cafaliers, Ve'll ride to shoorsh to-day, Each man ash hasn't cot a horse Moost shteal von, rite afay. Dere's a raw, green corps from Michigan, Mit horses on de loose, You men ash vants some hoof-irons, Look out and crip deir shoes." All brooshed und fixed, de cavallrie, Rode out py moonen shine, De cotton fields in shimmerin light, Lay white as elfenbein. Dey heard a shot close py Lavergne, Und men who rode afay, In de road a-velterin his his ploot, A Federal picket lay. Und all dat he hafe dimes to say, "Vhile shtandin at my post, De guerillas got first shot at me," Und so gafe oop de ghost. Denn a contrapand, who helt his head, Said: "Sah - dose grillers all Is only half a mile from hy'ar, A dancin at a ball." Der Breitmann shpoke and brummed it out Ash if his heart tid schvell: "I'll gife dem music at dat pall Vill tantz dem into hell." Hei! - arrow-fast - a teufel's ride! De plack man led de vay, Dey reach de house - dey see de lights- Dey heard de fiddle blay. Dey nefer vaited for a word Boot galloped from de gloom, Und, bang! - a hoonderd carpine shots Dey fired indo de room. Oop vent de groans of vounded men, De fittlin died away: Boot some of dem vere tead pefore De music ceased to blay. Denn crack und smack coom scotterin shots Troo vindow und troo door, Boot bang and clang de Germans gife Anoder volley more. "Dere - let 'em shlide. Right file to shoorsh!" Aloudt de orders ran. "I kess I paid dem for dat shot," Shpeak grim der Breitemann.