Harbaugh's Harfe. Gedichte in pennsylvanisch-deutscher Mundart

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OLGENDE

Gedichte,

in

Pennsylvanisch-deutscher Mundart

geschrieben, crschicnen ursprunglich im "Guardian."

Harbauch wurde

oft

hcrauszugeben, welches er auch beabsichtigte.

Wunsch

ist

Gedichte geschrieben,

diese

hat

mir ein theurer Freund gewesen

Jenscits.

Leider blieb dieser

Freunde durch seinen fruhen Tod

seiner vielen

Harbaugh



ist

es

ich

nicht

;

Dankbare Liebc zu ihm sowie zu dem Volk,

Auf

Wunsch

fur scin

vielen Seiten



in

unerfullt. allein

cr

immer noch, obgleich im

Sprache er diese Lieder singt, bewegt mich dieses

zugeben.

Dr.

gebeten eine Sammlung derselben in Buchform

Amerika wie

Erscheinen laut gewofden.

in

Den

Europa

dcsscn

in

Werkchen

heraus-



ist

dcr

vielen Freunden,

welche auf verschiedcne Weise bei den Vorbcreitungen des Unter-

nehmens mitwirktcn,

sei

hiermit hcrzlich gedankt.

E. D. Leisenring, B. F.

A.

J.

Trexler,

Pastor S. K.

G. Dubbs von Allentown, sowie Hin.

"Reading Adler," der

es

der die Wdrter-Tabellc

unternahm

Namentlich Herrn

Brobst und Pastor J.

M. Beck vom

die Schreibweise

im Anhang des Buches

zu ordnen und

bereitete.

VORREDE.

Die Holzschnitte sind

Das Der

alt

alle

nach Original-Zeichnungen angefertigt.

Scbulhaus, Die altc Michl, die

A. Beck von Harrisburg

von Herrn

J.

Kerchegang

in alter

Harbaugh's Familie zu Diese

Heemweh

Zeit und

Dcr Ertrag

von Reading, Pa.

gut

aus

der

gemalt.

in

Heimath und

Franklin County,

Die Bilder

skizzirt.

zeichnete Herr

zum

Dan. Devlin

des Verkaufs dieses Buches soil Dr.

kommcn.

*

Harfe giebt eine Darstcllung des Volks- und Familien-

Lcbens der Dcutsch Pennsylvanier. .

H ARBAUGH'sche

Feierheerd wurden an Ort und Stelle,

alte

Familie, Schule

Mochte

die

und

lieben Leser bitten

Weidcn zu hangen, sondern der Familie ertonen

zu

Von

der

Wiege

bis

Kirche wird manches

zum

Grabc,

liebliche

„ Die Harfe''

Bild

nicht an die

recht oft ihre schonen Klange im Kreise

lassen.

B.

Bausman.

Reading, Pa., Mai, 1870.

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Mm Einlcitung,

Zum Das

.......

A'dcnkc an Dr. Hcinrich Harbaugh,

alt

Schulhaus an dcr Krick,

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

7

9 13

.

Die ncie Sort Pschenf lleit,

ai

Dcr Bclsnickcl

2\

Per

05

altc Feicrheerd,

Die Schlofschtub,

Per

rciche

1

Herr im Dcich

12

Das Krischkindcl,

19

Die

4t

alt

Miehl

Busch un Schtcdtel

............ .......... ............ .......... ...77 ............ ic :i

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EEMWEH.

II

Dort gab ich

ihr mei' Farewell,

Ich weinte 'S

Mol

ich's ihr

Befor ich widder

War

in dare

kumme

Mammi

meen, ich dhet

Un Ich seh

dem

an

sie

net

denk,

se seh,

Rigel dort

weint, weil ich sie

bin

ihrem Grab!

sie in

So schteht

Welt,

gewe hab

Nau, wann ich an mei'

Un

gab,

als ich's

war's letschte

Dass

«3

wek geh

im Schockelschtuhl!

Net an keem annere Ort; Ich denk net an

sie als

im Grab

dem Rigel dort! sie immer vor mei'm Herz

Juscht an

Dort schteht

Un Was

weint noch liebreich

macht's dass ich so dort

An Weescht

sell

End vun

du's

hi'

guk,

Bank

der

Mei' Herz

?

fort

is

noch net dodt,

Dank Wie manchmal sass mei Dady dort, Am Summer-Nochmiddag, Die Hande uf der Schoos gekreizt, Ich wees

Sei

Was

es,

Gott

sei

Schtock bei Seite

hot er dort

Wer mecht

im

lag.

Schtille g'denkt

es wisse

— sag

?

?

IIARBA UGirS HARFFL

84

V'rleicht

is

Kindheets-Draam,

es 'n

Dass ihn so sanft bewegt

Oder

is

er 'n Jingling jetz,

Der scheene Plane Er hebt

sei'

Un

gukt weit iwer's Feld;

Er seht

v'rleicht d'r

Der schun

Er sehnt

die

v'rleicht

Dort

soil

Ich zitter an is

wol

Un 'S is

Was

Kerchhof

Mammi

nooch

in der bessere

Ich wees net,

Es

legt

Aage uf juscht nau

seiner

Ruh

Welt

ich nei' in's Haus,

Dheer!

d'r

alles voll inseid,

doch

is

alles leer!

meh heem, wie's eemol Un kann's ah nimme sei

net

naus mit unsere Eltere geht

Kummt

ewig nimme

nei'

1

Die Freide hot der Dodt gearnt,

Das Trauerdheel

is

mei'

So geht's in dare rauhe Welt,

Wo

dort,

helt

alles

Ja, in der alte

muss vergeh

Heemet

Fiehlt m'r sich

gar

all allee'

war,

Himmel

O, warm's net vor der

Mit

Dann war

m'r's

war,

Ruh,

seiner scheene

do schun lang verleedt,

Ich wisst net, was ze dhu.

Doch Hoffnung

meinen

leichtet

Der ew'gen Heemet Dort

is

'n schee', schee*

Weg

zu.

Vaterhaus,

Dort geht m'r nimmeh fort; Es weint kee' guti

Mammi

men'

In sellem Freideort.

Kee*

Dady such meh'

Wo, was Sell

is

kee' Elendwelt

Wo

alle

for 'n Grab,

er lieb hat, liegt

wie

die,

Luscht betriegt

Dort hat das Lewe ewiglich Iwer der Dodt

gesiegt.

Dort find m'r, was m'r do

Un

b'halt's in

verliert,

Ewigkeit

Dort lewe unsre Dodte

all.

In Licht un ew'ger Freid

Wie

Un

oft, wann ich in Druwel Denk ich an selli Ruh,

bin,

wott, wann's nor Gott's Wille war,

Ich ging ihr schneller zu

Doch wart Nor d

ich bis mei' Schtindle schlagt,

sag ich

— Weir,

adju!

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The following

translations

by the author himself^

of four of the preceding poems were made

and are

here appended as possessing

additional

interest on this account.

86

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THE OLD SCHOOL-HOUSE AT THE CREEK.

r

J^O-DAY Since

Now,

it

I

just

is

began

twenty years, to

roam

;

once more,

safely back, I stand

Before the quaint old school-house door, Close by

I've

my

home.

father's

been in many houses since,

Of

marble

Though

grander

To

my

lure

built, far,

Go

aim they miss,

heart's old love

Old school-house

Let those

and brick

their

who dream

at

from

this

the creek.

of happier scenes,

forth those scenes to find;

They'll learn what thousands have confessed,

That with our home our Is ever left

heart's true rest

behind. 87

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HARBA UGWS

88

long and travelled

I've travelled

joyless

that

all

Compared with

I

have found,

scenes that

This school house

How

home-like I

The

stand,

is

o'er

The wand of creek

With

around

the creek.

me

this spot to

buried past unlocks

little

lie

at

and think, and gaze

While memory

The

far,

worn, and sick;

Till weary,

How

IIARFE.

still

my

its

graves,

spirit

waves

other days. idles by,

bright and playful flow

And little fish still sport and Where yon low elder shades

glide,

the tide,

As they did long ago.

The white-oak stands before the door, And shades the roof at noon The grape-vine, too, is fresh and green The robin's nest Ah, hark I ween !

That

The

is

!

swallows skip across the

The

foremost one

And, look ye

A





the same old tune

at

is

mead —

best

the gable there,

house of stubble, mud, and hair

That

is



the swallow's nest

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THE OLD SCHOOL-HOUSE AT THE CREEK.

The young

are very

They

still

just

now

89



are sleeping sound

all

Wait till the old with worms appear, Then you the hungry cry shall hear From mouths that lie around These scenes But

The

void of former glee

have changed

I

!

— From yonder brook

boy's reflected rosy look,

No more I

were of yore,

are as they

Though

smiles out on

me

!

stand, like Ossian in his vale,

And watch

Now joy, now And

the shadowy train

sadness

me

And 'Twas here

bring their pleasing pain I first

When

I

attended school,

was very small

There was the Master on There was I

The

his

seem

whip and to see

his stool,

there his rule



it all.

long desks ranged along the walls,

With books and Here on

And

beguile,

tears will course o'er every smile,

inkstands crowned

this side the large girls sat,

there the tricky boys on that

See

!

how



they peep around

!

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HARBA UGH'S HARFE.

9o

The Master

eyes

them

closely

They'd better have

now,

a care

— —

The one that writes a billet-doux The one that plays his antics, too And that chap laughing there For

all

the scholars, large and small,

Are under equal

rule

;



Which is quite right whoever breaks The Master's rules, a whipping takes, Or

leaves at once the school.

Around the cosy

stove, in rows,

The little tribe appears What hummings make those busy They better like their A, B, C*s, Than boxing at their ears

bees



!

Those benches Their Full

many

a

are

by

high

far too



feet don't reach the floor

weary back gets

sick,

In that old school-house at the creek,

And

feels

most woful

sore!

Poor innocents! behold them

sit,

In miseries and woes! It is

no wonder,

I declare,

If they should learn but

On

benches such

little

there,

as those

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THE OLD SCHOOL-HOV.se AT THE CREEK.

With

these drawbacks, that was

all

A

For Master such,

Who

never skips a rule!

That he was

still

must confess

cross, I

He whipped But

yoa look,

in vain

cyphers through the Ainsworth book,

And

Who

still

well conducted school

us

most wholesome

felt

;

through and through rules observed

the rod, the rod deserved

According

This duty he with

Though

to his

zest

view

;



!

performed,

charmless to us

all

'Tis strange, our nature never could

Delight in what 'Tis

When

a

is

owing

for

our good

new Master took

the school,

Around the question " Oh,

is

he

How much

Irish

?

Is

our gain,

Depended on

Then when

We His

the

That he

to

And

ran

he cross

:

?

how much man

that

our

loss,

!

autumn school began,

eyed the Master shy

rules, his

-

to the Fall

!

whip, told very quick,

former rules would

stick,

ancient methods ply.

6

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HARD A FGJTS HARFE.

92

Still

was there

We

little

This world does not

Our

fare as

of complaint

had our pleasures too

sweet

as

just

we

always dish

could wish,

Yet sweeter than

is

due

At noon-day, when the school

We Some Some

had of sport our

play the race,

some houses

love a stirring

game of

Some choose

The

What tease,

;

The

rules

were



strict in that

circle

drew

;

larger girls joined in the ring

is it

not a curious thing

The

The

them out

of "ring" most fond,

Their giggling

Now

large boys did

it

?





too

large ones always tagged the large

The



at

they laugh, they hang about,

little girls,

When

drill.

the larger boys

mischief they arc

Until the Master turns

The

wall,

ball,

the soldier

large girls sweep

They

left out,

fill



small ones always missed

Then for the prize began the race The one that's caught, has now to The music, and be kissed

face

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THE OLD SCHOOL-HOUSE AT THE CREEK.

Old Christmas brought Its

We

mem'ry

a glorious

still is

time



sweet

barred the Master firmly out,

With

and

bolts,

The

nails,

and timbers stout

blockade was complete



!

Then came the struggle fierce and long The fun was very fine And whilst he thumped and pried about,

We

thrust the terms of treaty out,

Demanding him

The

treaty signed

— the

to sign

!

conflict o'er,

Once Master now were we

Then Were

!

chestnuts, apples, and such store,

spread our joyous eyes before

We



shared the feast with glee

Oh, where

are

Here

now

the school-mates,

studied long ago

who

?

Some scattered o'er the world's wide waste By fortune hither, thither chased !

Some,

My

O

in the

muse has struck

church-yard low! a tender vein

And asks a soothing flow Time what changes thou hast made,

Since

!

I

around

this

school-house played,

Just twenty years ago

HARD A UOirS

94

ITARFE.

Good bye Old school-house Echo sad, „Goodbye! Goodbye!" replies; !

I

leave

!

you yet

Fond mem'ry

a friendly tear!

me

bids

'Mid scenes Ye,

who

shall live

when

Write down Protect

A

it,

love

way-mark

it,

drop

it

that gave

my

I

here,

it rise

am

dead

let it stand,

in this

— —

wishes quick

changing land

That school-house



at the creek.

THE OLD- TIME HEARTH-FIRE.

poets praise, in touching rhyme,

'^JpHE

The I

hearth-fire of the olden time

read their verse with

And

Thus dreaming

To

think

Now, Coal

many

a sigh,

think of times and joys gone by.

I

see

o'er the past, it all

I'm

fain

again.

sights like these are truly rare,

are fashion every

fires

Among There

is

the so-called class

nor stove nor

where elite,

fire in sight.





yes, 'tis even so You wonder ? The heat comes somehow from below

One

No

feels quite lost



things do not

place to look, no place to

The room

And

is

yet no

fire

Such modes! Give

me

warm

sit

fit



— how strange

to



me -

to stir or see

— away,

'tis

nothing worth,

the old-time glowing hearth.

HARD A UGIPS HARFE.

96

I

A

ever feel for that dear spot,

home-sick love that ceases not;

Whate'er

My I

I

do, where'er

heart returns to that

I

roam,

hearth-home

never can recall the cheer

Of

that old hearth, without a tear.

There

lay the

In front a

back-log round and thick

row of stone or brick

On that we laid the smaller wood Then rose the flame how warm and good! And when without the storm-wind blew,



What

roaring in the chimney flue

Against the jam Is

— forethought

piled the ready-needed

Just opposite



a

thing

how

good

is

wood rare





Inviting leans the rustic chair,

And The

tongs and shovel near at hand.

The

mantle-shelf, familiar

in the

chimney-corner stand

still,

Holds candlesticks and coffee-mill

The smoothing irons, large and small, The lard-lamp -overtops them all they burn you know, And sulphur sticks From faintest coal when lire is low.



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THE OLD-TIME HEARTH-FIRE.

Oft have

watched

I

at

97

even-tide

Strange ghost-forms through the embers glide

The glowing

Now

We

coals, white,

livid are,

!

look, and think, and can with ease

See in the

How

fire just

sweet to

sit

White

Come

How

what we

please.

the hearth-fire by,

Till living coals to

embers die

ashes, creeping o'er their crest, as if

covering them for

rest

dream-like fades their glowing

Like eyes

Sit

black and red,

and now seem dead

we

light,

that sink to sleep at night.

beside a certain friend,

In love the evening hour to spend;

To double eyes, at such an hour, The coals have a most charming power As one, appear such mutual

They

see the

O'er youth,

The

same forms

souls,

in the coals.

as all the poets say,

hearth-fire holds enchanting

For then their dreaming fancy

A

cottage

They Than

mid

a

clump of

sway

sees

trees;

a;k no greater bliss to share just to live together there.

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HARBA UGirS HARFE.

98

Some think

the hearth-fire spell o'er hearts

Is close allied to

One

thing

is

witching

sure



arts

oft to that shrine,

Fond memory draws this heart of mine And round that hearth's soft evening gleams,

My

spirit

When

My

I

dreams

its

sweetest dreams.

that hearth in fancy see,

childhood

all

comes back

to



me

Then lives my father as before Then is my mother there once more And brothers, sisters, scattered wide, Come home again at eventide.

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HOMESICKNESS.

J I

KNOW not what Where'er

make

the reason

is

dwell or roam,

I

a pilgrimage each year,

To my

old childhood home.

Have nothing

No

there to give or get

legacy, no gold





Yet by some home-attracting power I'm evermore controlled

This

is

I

the

way

the home-sick do,

often have been told.

As nearer

To

urge I've

in

me

stretch myself

To The

my

I

drawn

;

heart begins

faster on.

reached the

You'll smile I

am

sweetly

And something Ere quite

come

to the spot I

More

at

mc,

high

I

last

hill-top

ween

!





as I can,

catch the view serene

dear old stone house through the trees

With

shutters painted green

!

IIARB

100

See

how

!

AUG ITS HARFE.

the kitchen

chimney smokes

That ofttimes gave

When, from see

the purple

!

They seem I

often

guc:fs

many

!

Did

How

that curling cloud

window

it

do

knows

tall

and

stately things

See! on the top of one just starling

He'll fall!

He I

sits

see the red

ween

I

that

danger

upon

his weight!

best.

his wings, is

same

the

rest.

tree her nest.

remember very

When Not

now

sings.

his little wife has built

On O,

and

— the twig bends with

likes that

Dark shining I

not.

were not good

love those poplar trees

I

What

A

that,

never could.

it,

a thing a child

it,

panes,

as red as blood.

wondered what did

But

Ah

fields,

!

;

witnessed as a hoy

I

And

the

me joy

thicker than

And

well

those three poplar trees

my

finger were,

could be bent with ease.

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IIO.VE-SICKXF.SS.

My

mother was

And

at

I01

grandpa's house,

had he

trees like these

She brought three scions home, and " Boys, plant

Can you

See

!

There

near the house

short the distance seems

no sense of time when one

is

Goes musing

There

The

the shop

is

cider-press

barn



All, all

corn-crib, too

is still

— and the

!

it

little

What

gate

used to be.

They know

not yet

there's a stranger near

guess old Watch, the dog,

Or

is

dead,

barking, he'd appear.

fearful bellowings

he made

Whene'er he heard the gate

The

travellers

He



just see!

against the tree.

where

That

dreams.

the spring with drinking cup

yard-fence Just

I

in his

— the —

The

Hung up The

so tall

the trees you see

am

really I

How

said,

there for me.

— they grew

believe

And made

them

always feared

bounced

at

him

;

sore,

such a rate

But though the bark was woful loud,

The

bite

was never great

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HARDA UG1TS HARFE.

All, all

Hark

is still

is

shut.

!

I

cannot yet

I'm overcome,

The same

a little here.

falling

spots

on

I

can hide

of a tear

this old friendly

porch

nor can forget,

love,

I

fear!

grape-vine

this

The

I

old bench here on the porch,

I'll rest

Behind

now

in the kitchen part.

not go in

Two

door

there's a little rattling

!

Back I'll

The

!

muse with beating heart

I

Till dimly in the night of death

My When

life's last

first I left

sun shall

my

One summer morning

My

mother Till

Now

I

set

father's house,

at that railing

was out of

bright,

wept

sight

like a holy star that spot

Shines in this world's dull night.

Still, still I

see her at that spot,

With handkerchief

Her cheeks

are red

There, there

I

in

— her

hand

eyes are

see her stand

wet

HOME-&ICKXESS.

'Twas there

gave her

I

my

good-bye,

There, did her blessing crave,

And

what

oh, with

a mother's heart

She that sought blessing gave. It

was the

last



She rested

When now

call

I

Wherever She

still is

She

is

ere

I

her form to mind,

may

standing

As

And

no familiar

As

in

my

fancy she

her grave appears

her only

I see

at that rail,

Bedewed with holy

What

draws

my

That bench

What

heart

often sat

He if

eye to yonder spot against the wall

still

my

On summer Hands meekly As

tears.



?

holy mem'ries cluster there,

My How

me!

for

spot,

former years

oft in

never to

be,

at that rail

And weeping on in

returned

I

in her grave

knows them

afternoon

crossed

looked so

all

father there

lost

;

upon

his lap,

and lone,

he saw an empty world,

And hoped

to leave

it

soon.

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HARDA UGH'S

104

Doth

of childhood's joys

a return

Across his

Or

spirit

With some

He

now

raises

On

yon

gleam

?

now

busy

his fancy

is

IIARFE.

loved youthful dream

his eyes

?

and looks

sacred crest

hill's

Perhaps he sees the graveyard there

Where

And

mother's sleep

In death's

All, all I

But

blest,

is

longs to slumber by her side,

is still

last

!

I

would

fain

fear the pain

This For, ah,

home

it is

peaceful

hesitate

rest.



pass the door,

of missing

all

contained of yore.

not what

it

was

Though its inmates are kind What with our parents once we lose ;

We

nevermore

shall find

;

Death goes before and reaps the sheaves

We can Such

is

but glean behind.

the fate of earthly loves

Where

all

things die or change.

Yes, even in the homestead here, I feel

alone and strange.

HOME-SICKNESS.

O

were

not for yon bright heaven,

it

With

How

I0 5

unchanging

its

rest,

heavy would our burdens be,

Our

how

life

sore distressed

But hope illumes our pathway

The That

is

to

regions of the blest.

Fatherland

a lovely

There

:

never roam

shall

I

;

No

mother there with

No

father there shall seek the grave

Shall see

Where That

is

home.

leave that

his beloved lies

no vale of woes like

Where

The

me

tearful eyes,

all

beautiful

we

is

this,

cherish dies

permanent

In those unchanging skies.

There we

shall find

And keep There we shall

Who Tin

what here we

gone before.

lonely hours, to

veil that let

lift

them through,

And wish it were God's holy To let me pass it too Yet patience

To

!

lose,

evermore

join our sainted dead,

are but

fain, in

The

it

till

my

hour

will

shall

come,

bid the world, Adieu

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THE OLD SLEEPING ROOM.

COME,

J

Back I

My

a pilgrim

to the

wan and worn,

house where

I

was born



softly tread to-day!

heart bears, as a holy thing,

The many memories I bring From life's long weary way. Familiar are these

Which

How

natural to

Just as of old

The



I

me!

do declare,

knot-hole in the wash-board there 'Tis

Nine I'll

indeed,

stairs

to the second story lead,

steps

lay

open



I

still

need not count them, though

you what you

The



will

'tis

so:

short flight there has four.

This hand-rail on the entry-side

What



just see!



adown to slide, As we were wont of yore.

sport for boys

106

THE OLD SLEEPING ROOM.

The window

at

the head

is

seen,

Venetian shutters, painted green,

And The

they are closed up

ghostly light of evening

So pale upon the I feel a

stairs

still.

falls,

and walls,

timid chill

Half smiling now, and now half sad Half weeping now, and yet half

Do I

It

ascend these

I

reach the top

opens I

as it

did



did of yore it

stairs.

touch the door

I

!

How many till

morning

Here child and boy in the corner stood

Here was

How

A

I slept

my

bed

:

my memory



kept.

sweet our childhood sleep appears

rests

not so in after years

Ah Life

a night, light,

the foot, and there the head

All this

One





unawares!

The dear old room From evening hour There



glad,

fills

!

this too well I



know

!

the anxious heart with cares,

wakeful head the pillow bears,

And

night's dull hours

move

slow.

*

HARBA VGirS HA ItFE.

io3

The moon It

pours

is



up

'tis

mellow

its

full

and bright

flood of light

Upon the bed and floor; What moves upon the wall about The shadowy play of trees without ?

I've seen that oft before.

All, all

Of

is still,

save but the wail

lonely cricket's evening tale,

Hid Hark!

window

in the

in the closet, tick



sill.

tick



I

wish that

If there be ghosts,

This place,

worm were



ah,

this hour,

who

would

still

can

suit

see

Yet

naught with

in

my

spirit's

As

if they

my

tell

?

them well

Perhaps some may be near I

tick!

the death-watch's ghostly click

It is

!

eyes that's real,

sense I feel

might be

here.

Yes, ghosts are here from childhood's hours,

They have no

And

They mirror

Of

all

my

forms, but

come

as

to

powers,

me pleasing pain my heart the plays,

give

;

early halcyon days,

Which

cannot come again

!

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THE OLD SLEEPING ROOM.

Angels are here, so pure and

They

play

rare,

upon the moon-beams

They

109

there,

glide along the wall.

Back

to this ark, like

They

bring their sprigs of peace and love; their friendly call.

I hail

These

Noah's dove,

guard us in our ways,

spirits

So mother's Holy Bible says

And

I

believe

it,



too

Have we the "Our Father" said, They watch that night around our bed Most certainly they do This did our mother often

tell,

We

well,

children

And

all

believed

did as

it

we were

told.



You don't believe? you're wiser Than mother and the Bible too ? Such

For

me

I slept

folly

this faith

hold

— you?

bold.

like a

charm

quite free from fear or harm,

In peace I

makes you wrought

:

it still



till

That they who pray

An

morning

I still

light.

believe,

this prayer, receive

Angel-guard

at night.

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Google

IfABB A

no I've often

A

wished

UGITS HABFE.

were again

I

child as innocent as then

But that can never be So

I

will keep, as best

The

life

of childhood

The But

see

!

I

can,

in the

man

child-life nurse in

high up has gone the

me.

moon

How

long I've lingered here alone

Good Hold

by,

'Tis

!

time for

my

there

little is

me

to leave.

room, good by

This parting

!

my eye makes me grieve

something

in

UR

Erklarung vieler

mendcr Wortcr, und

nothwendig auf einige Haupteigenthumlichkeitcn odcr

es nur

ist

den vorstehenden Gedichten vorkom-

in

zur Vereinf'achung dieses Wortverzeichnisses

mehr Regeln aufmerksam zu machen, und gerade, welche

viel-

Regeln sind

es

dem Pennsylvanisch-Deutschen Gleichbcrechtigung

mit

diesc

den ubrigen volksublichen dcutschen Mundarten geltend machen.

Das Pennsylvanisch -Deutsche gehort zu den suddeutschen MundDer ihm am vcrwandteste Dialckt

arten.

mehr noch diesc

viclleicht die

der pfalzische, odcr

ist

Westricher Abart desselben, und es

Verwandtschaft auf

die fruhzeitige

liisst

sich

Einwanderung von Pralzcrn

nach Ost-Pennsylvanien zuruckfuhren.

Wie

alle

Dialektc zeigt auch dieser manchfache Eigenthumlichkeiten

verschiedenen Lokalitaten;

in

pennsylvanisch -deutschc

und

erkennbar sind

als

allein

in ihrer

Gcsammthcit

Mundart gewisse Grundzuge, sicgrciches

Resultat

eines

die

hat die uberall

hundcrtjahrigen

Ringcns der Pfalzer Mundart mit andern suddeutschen,

ja sogar mit

sachsischen und mahrischen Dialekten, und namentlich mit der cng-

werden durfen.

lischen Sprache, betrachtet

Die Ansicht,

Abstammuog die

als seien alle

ist

Stammbaume

deutscher

Dcutsch-Pennsylvanier von rein deutscher

eine schr irrige. vieler jetzt

— Familien

in

Die

Namcn

ganz deutscher

schon, mehr noch aber



d. h.

pennsylvanisch-

den Landdistrikten bckunden cine schottische, 111

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HARD A UG/rS HARFE.

112

schwedische

irischc,

odcr

Herkunft.

franzosische

Gegenden, wie im Lechathalc, hat

sich das

andern Gegenden, wie im Susquehanna Thale

til

Alleghany

Gebirges,

ist

und jenscks des

mehr vermengt mit dem Englischcn;

es

uberall aber tragt es dicsclbcn

Grundzugc,

die da sind:

Ein Streben nach Vcreinfachung und Verschmelzung

1.

verschiedene Vokale (Diphthongc) odcr Consonantal

mcn, wobci

sich

der

vcrdoppelt

z. B.

auch

Kopf

;

Gcbaude und Gelaute

nahmen

bilden

die in

klein in kleen

;

Worte

Das

2.

Hcu

;

hiervon bilden nur Worte, die aus

und das Wortchen en^lische

in

kh und z

4.

und

ist

die

in halle,

nach mild

eine Spur.

Klang des

in s

1

der Diphthong

o/,

grosstentheils

Ausnahmcn

acceptirt

wurden,

wie das westricher und

denn nur

wenigen Lokalitaten

in

t

in d,

iscb.

b in w, p in

b,

umzuwandeln.

eigenthumlichsten Kennzeichen des westricher Dia-

in 11;

des d und

wie laden

in mill



findet

Auch

ist

die

nicht so streng; das n geht

t

in r,

und dem Verschmelzen des

Gcwitter

in lare,

in

Gewirrer, halten

man im Pennsylvanisch-Deu:schen kaum

Weglassung zwar

oft in

Endsylbe en

der

fallen gelasscn, aber nie das e mit

bei

weitcm

einen Nasenlaut auf, der hier

mit einem (') Apostrophen bezeichnet wird;

ganz

(

scbt.

dem Englischen

Neigung vorherrschend das

dem Verwandeln t

ist

das eigcntliche Pfiilzer oder schwabische

Von den

lcktes,

d

— das

ist,

ausgesprochen wird;

Ueberall

3.

g

is

man noch

Weide Baum)

Laib (Brod) wird

;

Merkwiirdig

'

Roi, Reihe; und Boi (Pie) Kuchen, vorkommt.

hat durchschnittlich den

st

Kinncr;

demselbcn Diphthong,

andere verschmilzt, wie

bleibt, der

Leib (Korper) bleibt Leib.

;

der in Hoi,

in

Erwahnenswerthe Aus-

mit

Weide; Weide (Grasfeld) wird zu Weed

blcibt

hiirt

Kinder

;

zu vcrwandten Diphthongen werden, wie

Gebei und Geleit. lautende

iihnlich

von dencn einer

Leeb

aach

Dasselbc Streben nach Vcreinfachung zeigt sich auch

Kopp.

in

in

wo zwei

zusammen kom-

Vokal oder Consonant gewohnlich

stiirkere

den Triphthongcn,

bei

manchen

In

Deutsche reiner erhalten

dem

manchmal wird

es

auch

n.

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WORTYERZEIC.

Auf die

5.

ausgcubt.

"3

Satzbildung hat das Englische einen merklichcn Einfluss

Wo

in

dieser

Bczichung gegen

die

Regcln der hochdeut-

schen Grammatik verstossen zu werdcn scheint, da

Vcrtauschung dcr englischen Rcgel fur

ist

die dcutsche,

cs

immer

eine

was dcm deut-

schcn

Ohr

die Satzbildung allerdings oft sehr sonderbar erklingen lasst.

So

B.

Hen, scherr

z.

fahre

:

— (Heinrich,

Markt

der blind

Gaul uf

schirre den blinden

;

mer welle uf

der

Markt

Gaul auf; wir wollen auf den

fahren).

Die hie und da vorkommenden hochdeutschen Worte hat

Harbaugh

nur des Reimes halber eingefuhrt, und viele englische Ausdruekc, mit

denen

er einige seiner

seinen

Wunsch

Schlicsslich

Gedichte urspriinglich uberladcn hatte, sind auf

durch pennsylvanisch-deutsche crsetzt worden. ist

noch zu erwahnen, dass

die

Schreibweise

oder

Orthographie so gewahlt wurde, damit die oben angefuhrten Grundziige

auch fur Leser im alten Vaterlandc, oder im Vergleich mit

anderen

Werken

uber deutsche Volksdialekte, so deutlich wie moglich

hervortreten mochten. J.

M.

B.

A Abbattig,

besonders.

Aem,

Erndte.

Affis,

office^

Amtslokal.

afFect,

offecty

afficiren.

altfaschen,

old-fashioned^

altmodisch.

arg gut,

sehr gut.

artlich,

ziemlich.

B Babblelaab,

Pappellaub.

ball,

bald,

bass ufF,

Banks,

passe auf,

bani y

Beese,

Bense,

Ufer.

Bose. pence,

Pfennige.

Digitized by

Google

ii 4

HAIMA FGWS

IIARFE.

(iant

Met

heat

tic

n.

liKiTf /» UUtl 11fpff CliCU*

pnanzt.

uianscnr, •

nlaat pidgl.

cieganies,

Jcitnics

r unr-

werk. Bole,

bow/,

Schale.

Bordkcrch,

Gallerie dcr Kirche.

Bortsch,

porch.

Portal.

Brescnt,

present,

Geschenk.

Brick,

brick,

Backstein, Brucke.

Bungcrt,

Baumgarten.

bummerisch,

pommcrisch, schwer.

Buschleit,

Leutc auf dem Lande.

Buwele,

Bublein.

c L/Ourts,

compliet,

Vjericnt. complete,

vollstandig.

compound,

verstandigen, abreennen.

Dcaacnt.

cunsioaeri,

cumpaunae,

D Dad v Did v..

Vater.

An nn