“Yes Lort, ich hash; when der water wash low, and mein stones wash dull, ich take leetle too much toll.”

“Well, den, Shake Fuhviler, you must go to der left mid der goats.”

“Now ich try menself.  Henry Snyder, Henry Snyder, stand up.  What hash you bin dain in die lower world?”

“Ah, Lort, ich does not know.”

“Well, Henry Snyder, hasn’t you got a mill?”

“Yes, Lort, ich hash.”

“Well, Henry Snyder, didn’t you never take too much toll?”

“Yes, Lort, ich hash; when der water wash low, and mein stones wash dull, ich hash taken leetle too much toll.”

“But, Henry Snyder, vat did you do mid der toll?”

“Ah, Lort, ich gives it to der poor.”

The judge paused for a moment, and then said, “Well, Henry Snyder, you must go to der right mid der sheep.  But it is a tight squeeze.”

Another specimen of his more sober forensic eloquence is to be found in the following speech.  There was a bill before the house for the creation of a new county, and there was a dispute about the boundary-line.  The author of the bill wished to run the line in a direction which would manifestly promote his own interest.  Crockett arose and said: 

“Mr. Speaker:  Do you know what that man’s bill reminds me of?  Well, I s’pose you don’t, so I’ll tell you.  Well, Mr. Speaker, when I first came to this country a blacksmith was a rare thing.  But there happened to be one in my neighborhood.  He had no striker; and whenever one of the neighbors wanted any work done, he had to go over and strike until his work was finished.  These were hard times, Mr. Speaker, but we had to do the best we could,

“It happened that one of my neighbors wanted an axe.  So he took along with him a piece of iron, and went over to the blacksmith’s to strike till his axe was done.  The iron was heated, and my neighbor fell to work, and was striking there nearly all day; when the blacksmith concluded that the iron wouldn’t make an axe, but ’twould make a fine mattock.

“So my neighbor, wanting a mattock, concluded that he would go over and strike till the mattock was done.  Accordingly he went over the next day, and worked faithfully.  But toward night the blacksmith concluded his iron wouldn’t make a mattock but ’twould make a fine ploughshare.

“So my neighbor, wanting a ploughshare, agreed that he would go over the next day and strike till that was done.  Accordingly he went over, and fell hard at work.  But toward night the blacksmith concluded his iron wouldn’t make a ploughshare, but ’twould make a fine skow.  So my neighbor, tired of working, cried, ’A skow let it be;’ and the blacksmith, taking up the red-hot iron, threw it into a trough of hot water near him, and as it fell in, it sung out skow.  And this, Mr. Speaker, will be the way of that man’s bill for a county.  He’ll keep you all here, doing nothing, and finally his bill will turn up a skow; now mind if it don’t.”