AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A PENNSYLVANIAN
“Oh, no, I must hurry home or I shall lose my supper.”
“Vell, maybe dass is besser. Dere is no supper here. It is long ago dat we had our supper and,” while a genial and kindly smile played over his face, “I sink it is pretty near all.”
John turned to me suddenly, while he held firmly the handle of the Dutch buckwheat cradle to keep it from scratching the buggy as we rattled along, and queried:
“Did I efer tell you dat story of my grandfadder Chon Pannebecker and annodder feller, Neiman, vat vas wiss him? I sink I did tell you dat story vonce.”
“I cannot recall that you ever did.”
“Vell, Neiman, he vas a neighbor and my grandfadder he vas a little dricky. In dem days all de farmers dey used to go down to Philadelphey in big vagons to marget. Dey put up at de ‘Sorrel Horse,’ dat vas a davern in Fourth Street and Old York Roat. Diese Neiman, he liked oysters and he goes out and buys a big pag of oysters to take home wiss him. De farmers, dey nefer vent to bet, but dey lay down on de kitchen floor on deir crain pags ven dey vanted to go asleep. Den diese Neiman, he says, ‘I am going to bet,’ and dey say, ‘Don't you be so stuck up. You come and sleep wiss us,’ and off he goes to bet. Den my grandfadder, he goes out to the vagon and gets de pag of oysters, and dey eat all dem oysters and puts de shells back in de pag, and ties de pag up fery tight chust like it vas all right. And den ven dey all goes home and comes to Neiman's lane, my grandfadder he says, ‘Neiman, don't forget your pag of oysters,’ and Neiman, he throws de pag ofer his shoulder and off he goes. Pretty soon he sees Neiman come across the fielt and he looks fery mad. ‘Wie gehts, Neiman?’ says my grandfadder. ‘Vere is my oysters?’ says Neiman. ‘Is dey lost? It must haf been de frost,’ says my grandfadder. ‘In de vinter time ven de oysters freeze, dat opens de shells and dey all runs avay.’ It vas a fery cold day, dat
