PADUTCH-LIFE-L Archives

From: "Vee L. Housman" <>
Subject: 2-Introducing Boonastiel
Date: Tue, 28 Jul 1998 18:28:21 -0400

CHOICE SELECTIONS FROM BOONASTIEL

"Some facet of his life lives in every man."

Dutch Letters
(By Gottlieb Boonastiel)

Dear Colonel Harder:

Have you heard tell of me? My name is Boonastiel! Most
folks claim that I am not all completely there. Perhaps I'm
not either. But since I was born this way, there is
certainly not much I can do about it. In my defense however,
it is often said that "innocent children and idiots speak
the truth." I am sure that many have long wondered who I am,
and I have finally decided that I will hold them in suspense
no longer. I have already been to a photographer and allowed
him to take this picture. My clothes are not what they
should be, but my Daddy always said, "Better a morsel of
bread in the pocket than a feather in the hat." At places my
toes peak through my boots, but Polly says our house is more
sanitary in the evenings after I remove them so long as my
toes are well aired during the day. My pants were made
during the civil war. My grandmother, who made them from
flax, also failed to remove all the burrs and if you had
ever in your life worn such darned pants you'd know how
miserably they can itch! My coat is in the old General
Jackson style and is a neck-rubber. My hat was at one time a
top hat, but since Betz Hullerheck sat her rear on its seams
it looks more like a doubled-up accordion. This, by the way,
made me angry, and I told her she might have known that the
hat wouldn't fit on that end.

From time-to-time people ask where I live and where do
I come from. I am a descendent of Grishtuffel Boonastiel. He
was a big man in his time--a jury member three times in a
row and a militia officer. He lived at a crossroad which was
named for him. Only the crossroad remains. I was born when I
was very young and so grew up like any other animal. When I
became of age I took off on my own hook and hauled lumber
from a mountain with a team of oxen. By the third day I was
tired of it, the oxen became stubborn, and I didn't know how
to get them home. Finally I devised a way to make the oxen
move. I found myself a large thistle-stalk and crawled up on
the saddle-ox. Then I leaned backwards across him, lifted up
his tail, and placed the stalk neatly thereunder. I can't
tell you much more after that. I know that we went down the
mountain like a thunderstorm. The limbs and underbrush tore
my clothing and my body into slivers until I finally became
dizzy and flew off the saddle. The oxen ran off, and I think
are still running.

When I came to I was in bed in a house, and a pretty,
black-eyed, red-cheeked girl was chasing the flies from me.
I asked her what happened. She told me that I was hurt when
the oxen ran by carrying me. I immediately thought of the
thistle-stalk.

Where am I, and who are you?"

"You're in Widow Snively's house, and I'm her
daughter."

Colonel, that was my first meeting with Polly, but not
the last. You know the rest of it.

Now we live on Rabbit Mountain in Hullerheck Township,
United States of Columbia. If anyone wants to find me, he
should go to Hullerheck tavern, and from there he can find a
good path up along the mountain to our house. You can't miss
the path, since broken bottles are littered all over it.

* * *

Note: This collection of Boonastiel stories was written by H. A. Harter
in the original Penna-Dutch dialect and were published in the Keystone
Gazette, Bellefonte, PA, between 1894 and 1904. They were translated
and transcribed by Bob James of Alaska and they are being posted to this
PADUTCH-LIFE mailing list with his permission.

This thread:

• 2-Introducing Boonastiel by "Vee L. Housman" <>