their left
knees.

"Der Teufel!" groaned they, "Dirteen! Dirteen!!--Mein Gott, it is
Dirteen o'clock!!"

Why attempt to describe the terrible scene which ensued? All
Vondervotteimittiss flew at once into a lamentable state of uproar.

"Vot is cum'd to mein pelly?" roared all the boys--"I've been ongry for
dis hour!"

"Vot is com'd to mein kraut?" screamed all the vrows, "It has been done
to rags for this hour!"

"Vot is cum'd to mein pipe?" swore all the little old gentlemen, "Donder
and Blitzen; it has been smoked out for dis hour!"--and they filled them
up again in a great rage, and sinking back in their arm-chairs, puffed
away so fast and so fiercely that the whole valley was immediately
filled with impenetrable smoke.

Meantime the cabbages all turned very red in the face, and it seemed as
if old Nick himself had taken possession of every thing in the shape of
a timepiece. The clocks carved upon the furniture took to dancing as
if bewitched, while those upon the mantel-pieces could scarcely contain
themselves for fury, and kept such a continual striking of thirteen, and
such a frisking and wriggling of their pendulums as was really horrible
to see. But, worse than all, neither the cats nor the pigs could put
up any longer with the behavior of the little repeaters tied to their
tails, and resented it by scampering all over the place, scratching and
poking, and squeaking and screeching, and caterwauling and squalling,
and flying into the faces, and running under the petticoats of the
people, and creating altogether the most abominable din and confusion
which it is possible for a reasonable person to conceive. And to make
matters still more distressing, the rascally little scape-grace in the
steeple was evidently exerting himself to the utmost. Every now and then
one might catch a glimpse of the scoundrel through the smoke. There he
sat in the belfry upon the belfry-man, who was lying flat upon his back.
In his teeth the villain held the bell-rope, which he kept jerking about
with his head, raising such a clatter that my ears ring again even to
think of it. On his lap lay the big fiddle, at which he was scraping,
out of all time and tune, with both hands, making a great show, the
nincompoop! of playing "Judy O'Flannagan and Paddy O'Rafferty."

Affairs being thus miserably situated, I left the place in disgust, and
now appeal for aid to all lovers of correct time and fine kraut. Let
us proceed in a body to the