From: Krasna, Bessarabia
18 May 1912

Two days ago I had an opportunity to snoop around in the paper again at Gedak’s. In Edition #42, I found the article at once, which Stolanus Wingenbach had written in his mother language. Because he had written about me in it, I answered back right away.

Your article however, Romanus, I found two days later in #40 at another reader’s place. At Gedak’s, I didn’t have the courage to ask for the edition he had already read, lest he would have suspected that I was looking for something. He has such an overly subtle mind of which you have to be careful. If he would sense that I was the “A Farmer” then all of Russia would be too small. With his nose up in the air he would then shout, “You see I have caught the guy who always secretly looks at other people’s paper. After he has sniffled everything written, he proceeds and writes who knows what about the village.”

But, dear friend Romanus Plotzky, I’ll be on the lookout like a rabbit so that he will not get on my trail, or else it would be all over for me. Then my newspaper writing would come to an end. Sometimes I secretly laugh myself to death when I am around them and they speculate about the “A Farmer”. Then there is all kinds of guessing as to who it could be. One of them will say, “It is no one else than this Gedak.” “No”, someone else will say, “I always think it is ‘Romel’ [Romuald] Dirk.”

But since Romel [Romuald] Dirk has been gone from the village for some time, they now suspect Peter Leinz. And so their guessing continues to the point where I find out everything again. Then I sit down between eleven and twelve o’clock when my wife is asleep and finish my article. I am not able to formulate everything because I do not have a good education. But when I get into the village and hear about their drinking the night before at Haefner’s or at some other innkeeper’s place and what kind of prank came about, that’s when I head home, and with a pencil note it all down, and when I have enough I compose everything.

In line with that, something always happens as it did with the two who crossed the bridge. When the incident with the bridge crossing occurred, my neighbor and I were on village guard duty. In the evening we signed in at the town hall and then went on guard duty in the village. As a routine on guard duty, we went up and down through the village until midnight. All of a sudden we noted that their still was a bright light at someone’s place and went over to investigate. When we arrived and looked through the window, we saw two women sitting there who were very noisy. At first we did not understand what they said. But suddenly one of them started screaming and said to the other: “Come on, let’s go to Semfer’s, that’s where they are for sure, and should I see my old man through the window then I will break every window. The devil has to bring an end to these boozing dogs once and for all.”

When they came out of the house, we had left the window and followed them. When they arrived at Semfer’s one of them peered through the window and said to the other, “They are not in here.” And pondered where they could be. As they stood there thinking, one of them said, “If there weren’t so many present, we could go in and share half an Oka (about a pint) of wine.” The other replied, “Why the devil bother with them, we’ll have a drink on our own money.” With that it was decided and they went in. Upon entering they greeted the guys and asked, “Have ours been here?” One of them replied, “Nope! Why? What do you need yours for? There are enough others around. If each of you buys a quart then you may join us.” One of them replied, “Yes, if you buy then we’ll buy also.” That’s when one of them hollered right away, “Semfer, hand me a quart of wine, and you two have a seat next to me.” The women squirmed at first, but it did not take long for them to sit down and eagerly drink along with the guys and forgetting all about their husbands.

When we had seen that the women sat fast, and when we had heard that their husbands were in some other tavern, we departed and went to another inn and looked for them. We did find them in Tarus’ tavern. It was already one o’clock when we arrived there. Looking through the window we saw that the two were the only ones there and so drunk that we could not understand a thing. Finally one of them said, “Brother, come on, we’ll head on home, else my old lady will curse me like a dog.” The other answered, “Yes, and you think not me?” Then they got up and left.

However, when they got outside it was as dark as in a bag and they offered each other guidance on how to get home. One of them said, “Home, what about home, I’ll get home, but how do we get over the bridge?” “Over the bridge?” replied the other, “we’ll get across. We’ll take each other by the hand and if one of us feels that he is getting too far to the side then he can kind of push the other a little back and in that manner we will make it across.” They continued on to the bridge nearby Tarus.

Upon arriving there one of them said, “Now, brother, watch out!” Then the other said, “Don’t worry about me, but you watch out.” Slowly they got to the middle of the bridge. Suddenly one of them said, “Hold up, you’re pushing me down the side!” And the other said again, “No, You’re pushing me!” And so one was shoving the other. Then all at once there was a splashing sound, and one was calling from below, “Brother, come help me, I am in it!” – “Where?” – “Here!” – “Where here?” They continued like that until one lay on top of the other. There was no water but a lot of runny mud. Then we noted that they had gotten out and one was saying, “Thunder and lighting, the way I look!” And the other, “But me too!” So they went on their way.

When the one who lived the closest was almost at home he said to the other, “Everything would be all right the way things are, if I just wouldn’t look the way I do!” “Yes”, said the other, “You mean it is different with me?” When they arrived where the first one lived he said, “Come on in with me, we’ll clean up a little and my old lady will have to fix us something to eat.”

But when they entered, things were different. Mamma was not at home. When he asked the kids where their mamma was, the answer was, “She left with Aunt Katherine to look for you!” When they heard this, they listened up and pondered if they could have gone to look at Semfer’s while they were at Tarus’. “Let’s go”, the other one said then, “Come on, we’ll take a look at Semfer’s and see if they are not there.” Sure enough, when they arrived at Semfer’s, the two women were there, dancing the Kosak dance in a way that pieces of their heels were flying about. “So,” said one of them, “here is where we find you?”

The wife of one of them said, “Yes, and if you would have been here, then we would have found you here also.” All the while the men stood at the door. But when they were served a drink by the others and were called to join them at the table, the ones present at Semfer’s first noticed the appearance of the two with mud all over, and the laughter started. They continued drinking with their wives until one of the women slumped in one corner and one in the other. –

Look, my dear Romanus Plotzki, this is how one selects the men here, and the devil knows, whenever something like this happens I am the one on village guard duty. However, lately it has diminished a little. One hears very little anymore. As it became evident, they are afraid that they could end up by name in the newspaper. I could have also mentioned them by name in the paper, but they are such elegant men who any day could come into office and that would not be good. Everything has quieted down at Antoni’s and I go very few times any more to his tavern, because they suspect that the one who does the writing lives in that corner. Dear Romanus, I am a simple man and it happens that one comes across such things. But then one has to watch out not to overdo it so that other villages talk about it.

Once I was standing in the market in Anschakrak (Tarutino) near individuals from Paris (in Bessarabia) when I heard one of them say to the other, “The way the women in Krasna can drink nobody can top them. On Friday I was in Hernere’s tavern and there several of them were drinking so much that it was astonishing. I do not know why the men tolerate that.”

And so the men kept talking and I heard everything. I just don’t talk the slang as well as the individuals from Paris; otherwise, I would have written you everything that they talked about.

Now my dear Romanus I have to stop. It is already one o’clock at night and tomorrow I have to go with my kids and hoe the cornfields. This year I planted three fields and these want to be hoed and weeded.

Now I greet all my buddies in America and Canada, the editor, and the entire reader’s circle.

A Farmer

25 June 1912

Since my last correspondence has been some time ago and since I know that my friends back home are yearning for a sign of life from me, I reach for the pen.

For now the weather is favorable. On the 21st of the month, we had a hard, soaking rain that helped the crops a lot. So far this summer and spring, we almost had nothing but a strong northwest wind. As a result, the growth of the seeds was stunted. At the beginning of June, the weather was very hot. On the 1st of June we had the first rain. The second rain came on the 16th and the 3rd, and as I mentioned, on the 21st. The rain on the 21st came with a severe thunderstorm and lightning causing sporadic damage.

Lightning at Kaspar Dirk’s place killed a horse, and a one-year old foal was hit at Raimund Koch’s. Lightning went through the open door at B. Dirk’s house and out the window. Luckily there was no one home. Lightning also struck through an open door of Rochus Uebelher’s house. Mr. Uebelher with his wife and children, Mr.Kaspar Hoffart, and W.Materi were inside. Fortunately, the lightning did not hit anyone. However, Mr. Hoffart complains that his ears are still buzzing.

Martin Bonagofski’s 13-year-old daughter is seriously ill. Unfortunately she was run over by a wagon loaded with wood and injured one arm, a leg, and her back. We no longer have a pastor. The old one left without good reason and established a parish in Speyer, about 12 miles north of here.

Here is some information for Mr.Romuald Dirk. His friend Daniel Dirk resides at this area. His address is P. L. Krupp, Saskatchewan, Canada.

There are some bachelors around here who would like to get married, but do not dare to speak to unmarried girls. They only sigh deeply from time to time when they see a girl.

I received a letter from my brother Zachäus Kopp in Emmental, and read that several people from Emmental want to immigrate to America. One says that he has a brother, the other a sister where they want to move.

Now, dear friends, I want to tell you a short but true story, so that you will not be disappointed.

Well then, there once were two bachelors who already had heard a lot about the praised America, and believed that in America roasted doves fly into your mouth. So, they made the voyage across the Atlantic Ocean and arrived in the big harbor city, New York. They disembarked and went into the city. After they had walked a while, one of them saw a quarter (25 cents) on the ground. He pointed it out to the other and said, “let us pick it up.” The other however said, “Nonsense, let this one be, we’ll go farther into town where there are more of them piled up together. There we will sit down and gather them up.” They ran around for a long time, but did not find one cent. Now they were saddened and realized that in America too, one had to work for the daily bread.

Now then, dear friends, should some of you believe that money just happens here on the street, then I ask you to take these lines to heart.

I want to inform those who intend to come to this part of Canada that the better land around here has already been taken. (*Editor: The poem: The Empress’ Manifest appeared already earlier in this newspaper.)

Hello to all my friends and acquaintances in the old and new world, especially to brother Zachäus in Emmental, and brother-in-law Melchior Weber in Krasna, South Russia.

Jos. M. Kopp