Stories of Childhood

ight have belonged to a fairy. His black eyes were bright and full, with long lashes and arched brows. His long curls were blacker than the raven, and while holding him there in

did you come from, and

his little hands

trees, and ze pot-a-toes bees in ze ground. Zen ze vinds blow and ze birds go avay, and ze opples bees in ze cellar, and ze pot-a-toes bees in ze cellar. Zen ze vinds blow too hard and ze s

e year? But pray, dear, where

s in Germany, mit Jeem and mi

me away here to America, and leave

in mine; but after a moment h

and may be he not buy it, but he get von big house in ze city, mit vindows vay down to ze ground,

les,

and hees head go von vay and von vay; and he say vicked vords, and my moder ce cry. Jeem and Fred bees afraid, and zey hide; but I bees not afraid, I bees mit my moder. And ven my fader tink he sit down on ze chair, he go vay fall on ze floor; and ven Jeem and Fred hear hi

ve drunk too much ze beer, and he have sold ze harp; and ze man come mit him vot have buy it; and ven ze harp go avay, my moder

ve not ze supper, ce have not ze fire, and ce have not ze bread; and ven ce tell ze men go avay, zey say bad vords to my moder, and my fader he strike her dot ce go on ze floor. Zen mit her hair he drag her to ze door, and mit hees feets he strike her vay out on ze stone, and her head bleed. And Jeem he see her dare, and he cry, and Fred cry, and I cry; and my moder ce groan like ce die. And von ze men vot come mit him strike m

ce come in; and Jeem and Fred zey go up ze step, and ze man he lif me, and my moder ce come up ze step; and ven ce come in, ze man see ze blood, vare my fader have strike her, and he go tell ze lady

and vile he sleep, he make big noise mit hees nose; and Jeem and Fred

nd he say dot he love her, and dot he vill get ze fire, and he vill get ze bread, but he have not ze money. Zen my moder say dot ce vill give him ze vatch vot ce have, ven ce vas mit her moder in Italy, to get ze money mit, but ce tink ven he get ze money he vill drink ze beer. My fader say No

ss it, dot vile he sell it, von man get it! But my moder say No, he have got ze money and he have drunk ze beer mit ze bad men, ce know he have. Zen my fader strike her von time and von time; and ven ce go on ze floor, he strike her dare mit hees feets, and ce not move, like ce be dead, and he say he vill kill her, he vill, he vill! And Jeem scream and Fred scream, and my fader get ze big knife vot he cut ze bread mit, and he lif it vay high, and say loud much times d