"Yah, I shpeaks English a leetle: berhaps you shpeaks petter der German.""No, not a word."—"Vel den, meester, it hardt for to be oonderstandt.I vos drei yahr in your country, I fights in der army mit Sherman—Twentiet Illinois Infantry—Fightin' Joe Hooker's commandt.""So you've seen service in Georgia—a veteran, eh?"—"Vell, I tell youShust how it vos. I vent ofer in sixty, und landt in Nei-York;I sphends all mine money, gets sick, und near dies in der Hospiddal Bellevue:Ven I gets petter I tramps to Sheecago to look for some vork.""Pretty young then, I suppose?"—"Yah, svansig apout; und der peoblesVot I goes to for to ask for some vork, dey hafe none for to geef;Efery von laughs; but I holds my head ope shust so high as der steeples.Only dot var comes along, or I should have die, I belief.""Ever get wounded? I notice you walk rather lame and unsteady.Pshaw! got a wooden leg, eh? What battle? At Lookout! don't say!I was there too—wait a minute—your beer-glass is empty alreadyCall for another. There! tell me how 'twas you got wounded that day.""Vell, ve charge ope der side of her mountain—der sky vos all smoky and hazy;Ve fight all day long in der clouds, but I nefer get hit until night—But—I don't care to say mooch apout it. Der poys called me foolish and crazy.Und der doctor vot cut ofe my leg, he say, 'Goot'—dot it serf me shust right."But I dinks I vood do dot thing over again, shust der same, and no matterVot any man say."—"Well, let's hear it—you needn't mind talking to me,For I was there, too, as I tell you—and Lor'! how the bullets did patterAround on that breastwork of boulders that sheltered our Tenth Tennessee.""So? Dot vos a Tennessee regiment charged upon ours in de efening,Shust before dark; und dey yell as dey charge, und ve geef a hurrah,Der roar of der guns, it vos orful."—"Ah! yes, I remember, 'twas deafening,The hottest musketry firing that ever our regiment saw.""Und after ve drove dem back, und der night come on, I listen,Und dinks dot I hear somepody a callin'—a voice dot cried,'Pring me some vater for Gott's sake'—I saw his pelt-bate glisten,Oonder der moonlight, on der parapet, shust outside."I dhrow my canteen ofer to vere he lie, but he answerDot his left handt vos gone, und his right arm proke mit a fall;Den I shump ofer, und gife him to drink, but shust as I ran, sir,Bang! come a sharp-shooter's pullet; und dot's how it vos—dot is all.""And they called you foolish and crazy, did they? Him you befriended—The 'reb,' I mean—what became of him? Did he ever come 'round?""Dey tell me he crawl to my side, und call till his strength vos all ended,Until dey come out mit der stretchers, und carry us off from der ground."But pefore ve go, he ask me my name, und says he, 'Yacob Keller,You loses your leg for me, und some day, if both of us leefs,I shows you I don't vorget'—but he most hafe died, de poor feller;I nefer hear ofe him since. He don't get vell, I beliefs."Only I alvays got der saddisfachshun ofe knowin'—Shtop! vots der matter? Here, take some peer, you're vite as a sheet—Shteady! your handt on my shoulder! my gootness! I dinks you vos goin'To lose your senses avay, und fall right off mit der seat."Geef me your handts. Vot! der left one gone? Und you vos a soldierIn dot same battle?—a Tennessee regiment?—dot's mighty queer—Berhaps after all you're—" "Yes, Yacob, God bless you old fellow, I told youI'd never—no, never forget you. I told you I'd come, and I'm here."George L. Catlin.
"Yah, I shpeaks English a leetle: berhaps you shpeaks petter der German.""No, not a word."—"Vel den, meester, it hardt for to be oonderstandt.I vos drei yahr in your country, I fights in der army mit Sherman—Twentiet Illinois Infantry—Fightin' Joe Hooker's commandt.""So you've seen service in Georgia—a veteran, eh?"—"Vell, I tell youShust how it vos. I vent ofer in sixty, und landt in Nei-York;I sphends all mine money, gets sick, und near dies in der Hospiddal Bellevue:Ven I gets petter I tramps to Sheecago to look for some vork.""Pretty young then, I suppose?"—"Yah, svansig apout; und der peoblesVot I goes to for to ask for some vork, dey hafe none for to geef;Efery von laughs; but I holds my head ope shust so high as der steeples.Only dot var comes along, or I should have die, I belief.""Ever get wounded? I notice you walk rather lame and unsteady.Pshaw! got a wooden leg, eh? What battle? At Lookout! don't say!I was there too—wait a minute—your beer-glass is empty alreadyCall for another. There! tell me how 'twas you got wounded that day.""Vell, ve charge ope der side of her mountain—der sky vos all smoky and hazy;Ve fight all day long in der clouds, but I nefer get hit until night—But—I don't care to say mooch apout it. Der poys called me foolish and crazy.Und der doctor vot cut ofe my leg, he say, 'Goot'—dot it serf me shust right."But I dinks I vood do dot thing over again, shust der same, and no matterVot any man say."—"Well, let's hear it—you needn't mind talking to me,For I was there, too, as I tell you—and Lor'! how the bullets did patterAround on that breastwork of boulders that sheltered our Tenth Tennessee.""So? Dot vos a Tennessee regiment charged upon ours in de efening,Shust before dark; und dey yell as dey charge, und ve geef a hurrah,Der roar of der guns, it vos orful."—"Ah! yes, I remember, 'twas deafening,The hottest musketry firing that ever our regiment saw.""Und after ve drove dem back, und der night come on, I listen,Und dinks dot I hear somepody a callin'—a voice dot cried,'Pring me some vater for Gott's sake'—I saw his pelt-bate glisten,Oonder der moonlight, on der parapet, shust outside."I dhrow my canteen ofer to vere he lie, but he answerDot his left handt vos gone, und his right arm proke mit a fall;Den I shump ofer, und gife him to drink, but shust as I ran, sir,Bang! come a sharp-shooter's pullet; und dot's how it vos—dot is all.""And they called you foolish and crazy, did they? Him you befriended—The 'reb,' I mean—what became of him? Did he ever come 'round?""Dey tell me he crawl to my side, und call till his strength vos all ended,Until dey come out mit der stretchers, und carry us off from der ground."But pefore ve go, he ask me my name, und says he, 'Yacob Keller,You loses your leg for me, und some day, if both of us leefs,I shows you I don't vorget'—but he most hafe died, de poor feller;I nefer hear ofe him since. He don't get vell, I beliefs."Only I alvays got der saddisfachshun ofe knowin'—Shtop! vots der matter? Here, take some peer, you're vite as a sheet—Shteady! your handt on my shoulder! my gootness! I dinks you vos goin'To lose your senses avay, und fall right off mit der seat."Geef me your handts. Vot! der left one gone? Und you vos a soldierIn dot same battle?—a Tennessee regiment?—dot's mighty queer—Berhaps after all you're—" "Yes, Yacob, God bless you old fellow, I told youI'd never—no, never forget you. I told you I'd come, and I'm here."George L. Catlin.
"Yah, I shpeaks English a leetle: berhaps you shpeaks petter der German.""No, not a word."—"Vel den, meester, it hardt for to be oonderstandt.I vos drei yahr in your country, I fights in der army mit Sherman—Twentiet Illinois Infantry—Fightin' Joe Hooker's commandt."
"So you've seen service in Georgia—a veteran, eh?"—"Vell, I tell youShust how it vos. I vent ofer in sixty, und landt in Nei-York;I sphends all mine money, gets sick, und near dies in der Hospiddal Bellevue:Ven I gets petter I tramps to Sheecago to look for some vork."
"Pretty young then, I suppose?"—"Yah, svansig apout; und der peoblesVot I goes to for to ask for some vork, dey hafe none for to geef;Efery von laughs; but I holds my head ope shust so high as der steeples.Only dot var comes along, or I should have die, I belief."
"Ever get wounded? I notice you walk rather lame and unsteady.Pshaw! got a wooden leg, eh? What battle? At Lookout! don't say!I was there too—wait a minute—your beer-glass is empty alreadyCall for another. There! tell me how 'twas you got wounded that day."
"Vell, ve charge ope der side of her mountain—der sky vos all smoky and hazy;Ve fight all day long in der clouds, but I nefer get hit until night—But—I don't care to say mooch apout it. Der poys called me foolish and crazy.Und der doctor vot cut ofe my leg, he say, 'Goot'—dot it serf me shust right.
"But I dinks I vood do dot thing over again, shust der same, and no matterVot any man say."—"Well, let's hear it—you needn't mind talking to me,For I was there, too, as I tell you—and Lor'! how the bullets did patterAround on that breastwork of boulders that sheltered our Tenth Tennessee."
"So? Dot vos a Tennessee regiment charged upon ours in de efening,Shust before dark; und dey yell as dey charge, und ve geef a hurrah,Der roar of der guns, it vos orful."—"Ah! yes, I remember, 'twas deafening,The hottest musketry firing that ever our regiment saw."
"Und after ve drove dem back, und der night come on, I listen,Und dinks dot I hear somepody a callin'—a voice dot cried,'Pring me some vater for Gott's sake'—I saw his pelt-bate glisten,Oonder der moonlight, on der parapet, shust outside.
"I dhrow my canteen ofer to vere he lie, but he answerDot his left handt vos gone, und his right arm proke mit a fall;Den I shump ofer, und gife him to drink, but shust as I ran, sir,Bang! come a sharp-shooter's pullet; und dot's how it vos—dot is all."
"And they called you foolish and crazy, did they? Him you befriended—The 'reb,' I mean—what became of him? Did he ever come 'round?""Dey tell me he crawl to my side, und call till his strength vos all ended,Until dey come out mit der stretchers, und carry us off from der ground.
"But pefore ve go, he ask me my name, und says he, 'Yacob Keller,You loses your leg for me, und some day, if both of us leefs,I shows you I don't vorget'—but he most hafe died, de poor feller;I nefer hear ofe him since. He don't get vell, I beliefs.
"Only I alvays got der saddisfachshun ofe knowin'—Shtop! vots der matter? Here, take some peer, you're vite as a sheet—Shteady! your handt on my shoulder! my gootness! I dinks you vos goin'To lose your senses avay, und fall right off mit der seat.
"Geef me your handts. Vot! der left one gone? Und you vos a soldierIn dot same battle?—a Tennessee regiment?—dot's mighty queer—Berhaps after all you're—" "Yes, Yacob, God bless you old fellow, I told youI'd never—no, never forget you. I told you I'd come, and I'm here."
George L. Catlin.