THE BATTALION.
13
How I hongry am dis time! Vj de waiter not come at
once? Fritz, mine sone, knock de table on, but not too
hart! Hit him easy like.
[Fritz knocks with his hugdi pocket-knife, in away to
rouse the dead.]
Mr. Roseng-arten—Voss soom Henker! You knocks
too lout! You bring-s de house mit all de insides mine
ears about! Wot for a boy are you, mine Fritz?
Mrs. Roseng-arten—Dat childt will his fun always
have. I tinkshe laugdi wen all de fife of us hungrick be!
Mr. Doerfliug-er (calls loudly)—Kellner! Garcon! Wait
er! Nig-g-er!
[Old Cyrus enters, bringing- dishes.]
Mr. Rosengarten—Oh, you come den at last! You
hav den all de night long danced haf ben, I must tink.
Wot you got dere?
Cyrus—Dance? me dance? Wot you tink de church
do wid me den? No, sah! Cyrus dance fo’ true wen he
nyong, like dat frolickin’ nyoung capper day. But fawty-
tree year slip een de grave, sence Cyrus cross he foot wid
nyoung gal. Oom! Dem fine times!
Mr. Rosengarten—I say, wot you got dere?
[Cyrus sets down the dishes from his waiter on the
table.]
Cyrus—Prawn ’pun teas’, Shode aig, bile crab, sheeps-
head wid moshroom.
Mr. Rosengarten—Wot de debble we want wit all dis?
We eat feesh, feesh, feesh! Crab, crab, crab! Sreemp,
sreemp, sreemp, all de day long at de hotel. Wot for you
tink we cum here, if teez not to findt udder ting, mutton,