Too de Tiet aus de latzte Generation von'ne baste mennische Models, woone Gott jemols em kenaudschen Goade stohne leet, oppwosse -enne Dartjajoahre nämlich enne Oostresarw- gauf'ett büta Tiet enn Boschhose enn Raupheehna bloß noch een Dintj omsonst: de Eatons Kataloo. Jo, wann de Kataloo mette Post tweemol em Joah aunkaum, donn jintj'ett doll. Donn word betjitjt, jeblädat enn bewundat. Oba seea!
Opp Jantsied wear'ett doabie meist too eenem Mennischen Playboy Club jekohme, weens soo säd Niestädja. Hee säd, de Siede mett de Frües-Unjawausch em Kataloo weare bie de bloomenoatsche Jungess noch populära aus de dietsche Fiebel. De Jungess doa em Darp nauhme den Kataloo oppem Staulebähn enopp, vestoake sich doa em Hei, enn worde doa Tjenstla enn Axeperts, hand made.
Kaun senne. Etj jleew ahm daut, wiels uck bie Jrienthol 'eromm wea wie meist soo wiet.
Woo populäa dee Kataloo wea, weet etj uck nich kratjcht, enn uck woll tjeen aundra nich. Waut etj oba weet ess, daut sogoa bie Prädja Ennse de Bibel sich twee Wäatjlang em Atjschaup vepüste kunn, wann de Kataloo kaum. Enn bie mienem Voda noch bediedent lenja. Etj meen de Bibel.
Bestale deede de measchte Mensche meist aules ütem Kataloo, oba mau enne Fantasie. Waut se wertjlich bestalde, wea hejchstens waut too Wiehnachte, enn donn fe Ma een poah Bloomasch -fleece jelaint- enn fe Pa een Sautz lange Combinations, enn beid size: Stout!
Etj haud boold jesajcht, bie Voda hild de Bibel bediedent lenja aus twee Wäatj opp eemol Vacation. Enn daut wea nich uzhend wäjnen Kataloo, daut wea emma soo. Voda laus nich daut Oole Testament, he wea daut Oole Testament, enn soo lang aus hee doabenne den mennischen Gott späle kunn, enn Rosmack hoole, enn daunze enn diewele, enn schriee enn bloare, enn de Mensche de Näse enn hanenwada uck de Täne omsonst behaundle kunn, enn daut Hinjarenj soweso, oba dann uck wada leewtolig enn spoßig senne kunn, wea daut soo's daut mußt.
Oba aul daut mau soo aum Raund. Aune Sassendartig blädad Voda emma oppe selwje Städ em Kataloo 'romm, enn donn egol wada. Daut foll uck Mutta opp, enn see säd mett eemol: "Heea, wann de Kataloo eene Bibel wea, weascht Dü aul meist een Schreftjeleahda, enn een Bibelforscha soweso. Leahscht Dü aum Enj ütem Kataloo Englisch?" Voda säd nuscht nich, hee fuah noh Jrienthol nobre, wundad sich, oajad sich, vetald sich mett sich selwst bett'a doll word, speaj linjsch enn rajsch üt, schmeet siene Schlubb äwrem Holtklompe, enn blädad donn wada em Kataloo, bett hee siene Städ jefunge haud.
"Waut betjitjcht hee sich?" ess de Froag. Bitte leiser.
Daut'et aune Sassendartig soo heet aus enne Hal word enn so dreajch aus enne Sahara, jefoll Voda seea schlajcht. Hee wea measchtens bossig, enn wann nich bossig, dann neewadrig. "Nich mol jescheiden Trubbel buschelt daut dit Joah!" meend hee eemol, aus etj daut head.
Na joh, vondoagschen-Dach saje se von soone Mensche, see send tweschen eenen Steen enn eene hoade Städ, ooda Koofoot; oba Voda wea soo mea tweschen de Groow enn dem Mesthüpe.
Oba soo langsom word sogoa mie daut dietlich, waut vonne Sort Warm mien Voda haud, enn woo ahm dee ploagde enn piesackte. Wiels: Aune Fiewendartig haud een McCullough von'ne Wille Hundat sich de Ranch jekofft, woone aun ons Laund aunsteete deed, enn dee siede enn siedooste äwrem Tün enne Nobaschauft von ons lach. Enn disse Ranch wea jrata, soo weens säd Voda, aus Jehaun Cornies siene Schopfenz enn Rußlaund. Aus daut soo wea, weet etj nich; waut etj oba weet, ess daut McCulloughasch ähre schwoate Angus bie ons kaume Howa enn Aulfaulfa fräte. Kroope eefach derjchen Stacheldroht, enn muake sich daut bie ons tüsig: fraute, schnerzte, enn läde sich han enn schleepe uck enn.
Well, daut wea eene goode haulwe Miel auf, oba aus Voda enn Mutta aum Sinndach fuahre de Stap enn de Fletja sich too betjitje, toobd Voda mett eemol loos, aus wann he Biswarm haud, enn hee wea platzlich pienja aus een nerweesa Hummingbird. Hee schreajch: "Biet ahm aum Zoagel enn aum Pungel, Mopps. Jeff ahm!," enn joag mett Hund toop daut Veeh tridj, daut'et stoof enn stritzt.
Aus Voda den oolen McCullough noch denselwjen Dach troff, räde see measchtens body language. Enn derjche Däah, wiels "Miester Kullah" ve Voda schnett haud. Voda räd, wann'a doll wea, emma lüda enn lüda enn iewaja, kratjcht soo's Swaggerts Jamie biem prädje. Bloß daut Voda staut 'ne Bibel eene Füst enne Henj haud, enn Rusch räd. Oba Mensche engrüle? Daut kunne se beid jlitje goot!
Na joh! Waut doa wertjlich wea, enn woa etj uck aul derhinja jekohme wea, wea dit: Voda wea eemol enn Winnipeg jewast, enn he haud doa jeseehne, daut bie fiewendartig Grod Kold een Poliesmaun emm Pelz so sondasorj romm jintj "aus wann'a aum Nippa em Juli enne Unjabetjse rommdwauld."
Voda siene Fantasie haud von dissem jestuckten Jesautzmaun enn sien Biffelpelz medden em Winta een Bild aufjenohme, enn dit Bild word'a nich meea loos. Uck emm Somma nich. Enn aus Voda sach, dautet soon Pelz fe $36.98 emm Eatons Kataloo too bestalle gauf, kaum siene Fantasiedaumpmehl nich meea too Rüh.
Enn he jintj foaken doahan, ooda de Mehl trock ahm doahan...waut uck emma, jenoag, dee leeht ahm nich mea loos. Enn toom easchten Mol enn sienem Läwe freid Voda sich oppen Winta; ahm wudd woam senne, enn daut mucht doch mett'em Schinda toogohne, wann hee sich nich boold dem Biffelpelz äwastreepe wudd.
"Bai gosh enn bai golly," meend'a, enn uck noch een bät "Holy Doodle,": size 44 bett 46. Enn dann mol seehne, waut de Winta enn uck de Jrienthola von ahm hoole wudde. Hee wudd derjch den Winta enn derjch Jrienthol gohne, soo's daut Volk Israel derjch daut Roode Maeah. (Voda säd derjch daut Schwoate Mäah, wiels daut haud hee jeseehne, enn "daut wea je woll doch deepa enn breeda aus daut Roode" meend'a, "enn wäa weet, mett daut Roode Mäah, eena kaun de Mensche nich aules jleewe, nich mol de Jüde."
Na joh, oba hee mußt doch noch lenja opp sien Biffelpelz wachte, aus hee jedocht haud. Wiels? Na, $36.98 wea too dee Tiet een unjaheia groota Hüpe Jeld. Enn uck wiels? Joh, wiels emm nächsten Somma, aus Voda toop mett Miester Kullah sien Veeh toop too Jeld kohme wull, schreef de Wadagott 1936. Enn daut wea je dann uck de Somma aus'ett soo heet enn dreajch wea, daut'ett Veeh eefach too marood enn too meed enn too mack enn too medassa wea, om bie ons daut Jreenfooda too sample. Aulso frooa Voda noch eenen Winta, oba donn jintj'ett loos! Oba seea!
Oh joh, eene groote Pelzmetz kofft hee sich em selwjen Winta: eene mett ditjet Fall von benne enn von büte. Wann Voda von de Pelzmetz räd, enn hee dee de Mensche wees, säd hee emma: "Äwrem Hund send wie aul, äwrem Zoagel mott wie noch. Oppjoah!"
"Waut meenst Dü doamett, Thiesse? Wua west Dü han?" fruage de Lied. Oba Voda jniesad bloß een bät enn säd: "Gedepp!" enn fuah loos. Mette Pead, soo's aule aundre.
Oba? Joh, aum 2 August aune Säwendartig wear'ett soo wiet. Aun dem Morje weare bie ons emm Howa enn ennem Aulfaulfa vearefeatig schwoate Tjeaj enn Bolles, enn Tjalwa. Dee fraute enn freide sich enne Wad bie ons oppem Fletj enn oppe Stap, enn uck doatweschen. Oba Voda leeht dee toch, enn säd nuscht. Etj docht mie aul: "Ess'a blind, ooda reis wie morje tridj nohm Nippa, ooda ess'a schaubig? Ooda haft hee mol wada waut vea?"
Aum 3 August Klock tien zemorjess wort etj, enn uck de schwoate Angus von Miester Kullah enn, waut Voda aules jeplohnt haud. Toop mett Fraunz, mien Brooda, enn mett Jaunz Oant, enn Kühne Wiense Briss, enn Jehovah Töwse Aunton, enn Liestje Rampels Henritj, saut Voda oppe Pead. Voda haud sich den Kunta Orlik ütjesocht; de groota Donna haud eenen jewaultjen Afterburner, enn wann'a dem aunschitzt, haud'a meea Spied aus een Rehbock.
Joh, aula saute se nü oppe Pead, enn aula weare se soo iewrig aus een Schwadroon Kosoake.
Wiet rundom reede se, eascht langsom em Waste nenn, donn em Siede, enn donn, noch emma langsom, em Ooste nenn. Enn mett ons Mopps, steile Uahre enn mett een extra Tjrinjel enn sienem Zoagel, bie Voda oppem Kunta, wiels daut Grauss enn Jeträajd soo huach wea, daut de Hund nich seehne kunn, waut hee noch too doohne haud.
Enn donn wear'ett soo wiet! Doa stund nü de gaunze Kavalrie, reed toom Aunjriep. Lüd jeräd word nich, bloß de Hund stemmd een fienet Leedje aun, oba hee leet fuats noh, wiels Voda nich mettsinje deed.
Donn worde de Rolle sootoosaje een bät vedeelt, enn sogoa de Pead wißte noch nich waut daut aules sull: Aundasch aus em Woatjeldach, oba nich gaunz Sinndach, so väl wißte uck see.
Voda enn Orlik stunde veropp, enn de Pelzanwärter haud eene dreetinjsche Fortj enne Grauje, enn noh bowe jespetzt, enn hee tald enn hee tald daut Veeh, doa eene Veadel Miel auf, enn bettem Novel enne Säd, sootoosaje. Voda wea soo iewrig aus een Hobo, wann de eenen Zug omme Atj daumpe sach...enn donn...Mett eemol bload Voda: "LOS!" leet doabie Clotch enn Hund rüt enn rauf, enn donn? Donn bebbad de Ead. See moarachde aulatoop loos, daut Stoff enn Klütasch enn Schiet eenem omme Uahre fluage, jlitj noh Miester Kullah siene Häad opptoo.
Wiense Briss enn ons Mopps reede enn rande dicht aune Fenz delenjd, doamett de Häad nich tridj enn noh Hüs kunn. Enn etj stund uck doa aum Tün enn weifeld waut etj kunn, enn bload soo's aule Donna.
De Mejchel wull noch wiese, wea hiea eajentlich Bauß ess, enn hee kleiwd daut'e Soode fluage, enn hee brommd uck bauß, enn leet siene Tung aundathaulw Schooh rütbommle, soo's daut mott, wann'a doll woat. Oba aus hee mett Voda siene Tinje eent aum Hinjarenj tjreajch, soo's een Matador, gauf'ett een Instant Conversion. Oba aunstaut sich oppe Tjnees tooschmiete, dreid hee sich romm, tjwield sich enne Poote, stald sien Zoagel enne Hejcht, enn weifeld doamett aus een Propella, soo's een Rehbock -oba ohne witte Unjabetjse- enn läd loos waut'a kunn, siene Jemeend hinjeraun.
Eascht de jnodefeldsche Lain delenjd, dann soo doll enn schoap enn huppasch rajsch, daut een poah Tjalwa omstelpde enn "MA!" bloade, dann jlitjüt de jrientholsche Lain delenjd, mett väl Jebloah enn emma huppasch. Voda mußt sich noch emma äwa den Boll Mejchel oajre, woona ahm haud vesocht aus Leitenda auftoosate, enn nü bucheld hee sienen Kunta Orlik enne Rebbe, bett he dicht aum Boll wea. Donn resst Voda dem schwoaten Plästa mettem Fortjestäl eent äwrem Bless -noch emma bie dartig Miel de Stund- daut de Boll meddem em hallichten Dach Stearns sach...daut wea ahm lenjdhan aun too seehne, daut he nü opp high beam drebbeld.
Wann doah eena von Metro Golden Meyer jestohne haud, enn sich daut Bild aunjetjitjt, dann wea de gaunze Schwadroon jlitj aum Paunjstaul vebie jeräde, donn derj'chen Chaco, fuats äwre Jrenz, enn donn haulf rajsch noh Hollywood opptoo...
Daut Veeh ständ enn deed, de Schüm enn de Kackenacka fluag...nü weare se oppe Winnipegsche Lain, enn dann noch eene Miel, enn donn weare se mett eemol bie Dirijente Driedjasch em Paunjstaul aunjekohme. "Nü nenn mett jünt Schindasch!" enn donn word de Gate toojemoakt.
Jieda Cowboy tjreajch eenen Dolah, aus'a wull ooda nich, enn se mußte nü wada em Auldach nenn, enn noh Hüs riede. (Enn etj? Etj tjreajch uck een Dollah, oba enn veea Installments äwa veea Joah.)
Bloß Voda reet noch veea Miel wieda noh Miester Kullah, mett Hund enn Fortj, enn väl Wind von hinje.
Jenoag, aum Friedach von de Wäatj haud Voda vearefeatig Dohla, enn Miester Kullah haud sien Veeh. Enn aum Mondach vonn'e nächste Wäatj bestald Voda sich derjch'en Eatons Kataloo eenen Biffelpelz, size 46.
Oba doa wea je noch een Dollah äwajebläwe...woa han mett dem? Vleicht emm Kollatjtetala? Weit jefehlt, meine Teuren. Voda läd den Dolah enn een Kowart mett een Zadel nenn, enn säd, etj sull rejchtoo noh Kullasch gohne, enn ahn den Breef jäwe.
Etj kunn donn aul een bät lese, enn unjawäjess -daut wea emmahan meist twee Miel, uck rejchtoo- tjreaj mie de Nieschiea von hinje, enn dann von bowe, enn donn noch von benne too hoole, enn schmeet mie han, enn donn nauhm see mie uck noch den Breef wajch, enn reet den op enn hilt mie den verr'e Uage enn säd: "Lass!"
Enn waut stund doa? Doa stund:
"Howyüdo Miester Kullah. Tanks fer de Beffelkoht. Hier ess won Dollar fe die Fertilaiza yür Kattel lief Behaind. If yü vant anoder Diel next yier laik dis yier, jü just say mie, O.K.?"
Yür Christschen Freund enn Naybür Peter-the-Grate."
At the time when the last generation of the best Mennonite models God ever permitted to bear fruit in the Canadian garden grew up - in the Thirties in the East Reserve - we had, in addition to lots of free time and bush-rabbits and Prairie chickens, only one other item which was free: the Eaton's catalogue. Yep, when that catalogue arrived twice a year by mail the speed of things picked up. People gathered around to look at it, to inspect, to leaf through it and to express surprise.
In Jantsied (the other side of the Red River) the catalogue almost led to a Mennonite Playboy Club, at least Neustädter said so. He said that the pages with the ladies' lingerie in the catalogue were even more popular than German grammars among the Blumenort boys. The boys of that village took the catalogue to the barn loft, hid in the hay and took matters into their own hands.
It could be true. I am prepared to believe him because around Grünthal things developed much the same. Now just how popular the catalogue was, I don't really know and probably no one else does either. What I do know for sure however, is that even at Preacher Ennses the Bible had two weeks holidays in the corner cupboard when the catalogue arrived. And in my father's case quite a bit longer. I mean the Bible.
People ordered most everything from the catalogue but only in their imagination. What they really ordered was only an item or two at Christmas - a pair of bloomers (fleece-lined) for mom and a pair of long combinations for pa and both in size stout.
Did I almost say that the Bible enjoyed quite a bit more than two weeks vacation? I probably did and this was not necessarily because of the catalogue. My Pa did not read the Old Testament, he was the Old Testament and as long as he could play the Mennonite God in it and raise hell and dance and devil and yell and scream and could work over noses and teeth free of charge and asses to boot, and occasionally become loving and reflective and humorous, everything was as it ought to be.
But all that only on the edge of things. In 1936 Pa was always leafing around in the same spot in the catalogue. Even mom noticed this and she suddenly said, "Listen, if the catalogue were a Bible, you would almost be a scribe, if not a scholar of the Holy Script. Tell me, are you learning English from the catalogue?" Pa said nothing at all, he just hitched up the horses and went to Grünthal to make the rounds and then he was surprised and got mad and talked to himself till he got even madder, then he spat left and right and threw his cap over the woodpile and then he resumed leafing in the catalogue until he had again located chapter and verse.
You're probably asking, well what was he looking at? Well, just take it easy for a bit, okay? That it was as hot as hell in '36 and as dry as in the Sahara did not sit at all well with Pa. He was bossy most of the time and if not bossy, then mad and if not mad then ill-tempered. "One can't even reap a proper crop of decent trouble!" he said once when I overheard him.
Well, today they say of such people they are between a rock and a hard place but our Pa was between the gutter and the manure pile. But gradually even I came to understand what kind of worms were bothering the old man and how they plagued and pestered him.
In '35 one McCullough from nowhere or the "Wild Hundred" had bought a ranch adjoining our land which lay to the south and east of the fence of our farm. This ranch was larger, at least Pa said so, than Johann Cornies' sheep ranch in Russia.
Whether this was true or not, I don't know but what I do know is that McCullough's black Angus came to visit and to eat our oats and alfalfa. They simply crawled through the barbed wire fence and made themselves at home; they ate, they shat, grazed some more and then laid down and even snoozed.
Well, all that was happening a good half a mile away but when on Sunday, Pa and Ma took off to inspect the fields, Pa immediately had a fit as if warble flies were pestering him and he suddenly became as active as a hummingbird. He bawled, "Go for his stem and his grapes, Mopps! Let him have it, make the juice fly! And now for his carrot!" and then he chased the bull and cows back at such a speed that you could see the dust and green squirts fly.
When Pa met Old McCullough later that day, they talked mainly body language through the door because "Miester Kullah" was afraid of our Pa. Pa spoke always louder and louder when he got mad, just like Swaggert's Jimmy when preaching. Only that Pa had a fist in his hands instead of the Bible. But scare the hell out of people? They were both damn good at it.
Na joh! What there was really to it all and what even I had managed to understand goes as follows - Pa had once been in Winnipeg and there he had seen a policeman walking around at thirty-five below as casually "as if he were sitting in the sun in shorts by the Dnieper in July."
In his imagination Pa had taken a picture of this stocky man of the law wearing a buffalo coat in the middle of the winter and this picture simply refused to leave him. Even in summer time. When Pa saw that it gave such a buffalo coat for $36.98 to order from the Eaton's catalogue, his mind gave him no peace.
For the first time since coming to Canada, Pa actually looked forward to the winter; he would be warm and even if everything went to the devil, Pa was going to have a blanket of buffalo on his back before long. Damn it!
"By gosh and by golly," he said and even a bit of "Holy doodle, size 44 to 46." And then let's just see what the winter and the Grünthalers would think of him. He would walk through the winter and through Grünthal like the people of Israel through the Red Sea. (Pa said through the Black Sea, because that one he had seen and "that was wider and deeper than the Red one and who knows about the Red Sea, you just can't believe everything people tell you, not even the Jews.")
Na joh, but he had to wait somewhat longer for his buffalo coat than he had reckoned on. $36.98 was a lot of money at that time and 1936 was exactly the summer when it was so hot and so dry that all cattle, including the neighbours', were too apathetic and too lazy to come over to our fields of green fodder for a sample and an overnight stay. And so Pa was cold for another winter but then things started revving up.
Oh joh, he did buy himself a huge pelt cap that very winter, with thick fur both inside and out. Whenever Pa spoke about that beauty and showed it to people he always said, "Well, we're over the dog and now we just have to cross his tail. Next year!" Or in other words, don't count your chickens before they're hatched.
"What are you talking about, Thiessen? What are you up to this time around?" people asked. But Pa just sneered a bit and said, "Get up horsies!" and took off.
On August 2 in '37, the time had come. That morning there were forty-four black cows and bulls and calves in our fields. They were in a wild grazing and munching competition in our oats and alfalfa fields and in our meadows and in the green steps in between. But Pa just let them be and said not a word. I was thinking to myself, "Is he blind, or are we going back to the family estate by the Dnieper tomorrow? Or is he again up to something?"
On August 3 at ten o'clock in the morning, I and the black Angus of "Miester Kullah" realized what Pa was up to. Pa and Franz, my brother, and Preacher Janz's Aaron and Turkey Wiens's Boris and Jehovah Toews's Anton and Liestje Rempel's Hendritj, sat on horses. Pa rode our gelding Orlik and that big devil had powerful hindquarters and more speed than a deer buck. They sat on their mounts, as eager as a squadron of Cossacks.
They took a wide, wide turn, riding slowly to the west and then they all changed direction and rode south and then, still slowly and casually, they headed east with our dogs Mopps, ears erect, an extra ring curled into his tail for the occasion, sitting with Pa on the gelding because the grass and the grain were so tall that he could not see what he was shortly expected to do.
The time had come. The entire cavalry stood ready to mount an attack. There was no loud talk at all. Then the roles were handed out, so to speak, and even the horses did not know what to make of it all. Things were different from the workday but not quite as on Sundays, that much they knew.
Pa and Orlik were at the front and the fur coat candidate had a mighty three-tined fork in his hands, business end up as he counted and re-counted the cattle a good quarter of a mile away up to their belly buttons in standing silage. Pa was as eager as a hobo seeing a train steaming around the corner - and then suddenly Pa yelled, "Now!" while releasing clutch and the dog. The earth trembled and shook as they thundered off together heading straight for "Miester Kullah's" herd, sending dust and clods and shit flying around the spectators' ears.
Wiens's Boris and our Mopps rode and ran close to the fence so that the herd could not run back home. I stood by the fence yelling and screaming and waving for all I was worth. Michael, the bull, wanted to show who the real boss was in these parts as he clawed huge hunks of sod into orbit and bellowed with a foot and a half of tongue hanging out of his mouth. But when he got four inches of Pa's weapon right into the flank and ass area, he had an instant conversion. But instead of dropping to his knees and doing penance, he placed his tail in high gear and started swirling it like a deer buck but without white shorts, and took off for all he was worth, hard on the heels of his congregation.
First they moved along the Gnadenfeld line so fast and sharply and so much in overdrive that a few calves capsized and then straight along the Grünthal line with much bawling and more gallop. Pa was still mad at the bull for having attempted to unseat him as the lead minister and so he gave Orlik a few hefty digs in the ribs until he was alongside of the bull. Then he hauled out and landed the black bastard one over the forehead - still at thirty miles an hour - so that the bull saw a galaxy of stars in the brightness of day; you could see it all over him that he was now strictly on high beam.
Had there been anyone of those reps from Metro Golden Meyer and had he taken a good look at the entire squadron, he would have had them ride straight past the cattle impounding station, then right through the Chaco, across the border and a half-right straight to Hollywood.
The cattle groaned and moaned with foam and shit flying. Now they were on the Winnipeg line and then after another quick mile, they suddenly arrived at Conductor Driedger's Cattle Impounding Compound. "In with you bastards!" and the gate was closed.
Every one of the cowboys got a dollar whether he wanted it or not and then they rode into the everyday world of home. (I also got a dollar which I wanted but it was paid to me in four installments over the next four years.) Only Pa rode another four miles to "Miester Kullah's" place with dog and fork and a stiff breeze behind.
To make a long story short, on the Friday of that week, Pa had forty-four dollars and "Miester Kullah" had his cattle. And the following Monday, Pa ordered himself from the Eaton's catalogue, a buffalo coat, size 46.
But there was one dollar still left. If you think it was meant for the collection plate you're wrong again. Pa placed that dollar in an envelope together with a note and told me to take a short-cut to McCullough's and give it to the Miester.
I was already able to read a bit and while underway - it was a good two miles, even by short-cut - my curiosity grabbed me and took that envelope away and ripped it open and made me read the note. It read:
"Howyüdo Miester Kullah. Tanks fer de Beffelkoht. Hier ess won Dollar fe die Fertilaiza yür Kattel lief behaind. If yü vant anoder Diel nex yier laik dis yier, yü just say mie, O.K?
Yür Christschen Freund enn Naybür, Peter-the-Grate."