| IT was a summer evening, |    | 
  |   Old Kaspar's work was done, |    | 
  | And he before his cottage door |    | 
  |   Was sitting in the sun; |    | 
  | And by him sported on the green |           5 | 
  | His little grandchild Wilhelmine. |    | 
  |    | 
  | She saw her brother Peterkin |    | 
  |   Roll something large and round, |    | 
  | Which he beside the rivulet |    | 
  |   In playing there had found: |    10 | 
  | He came to ask what he had found |    | 
  | That was so large and smooth and round. |    | 
  |    | 
  | Old Kaspar took it from the boy, |    | 
  |   Who stood expectant by; |    | 
  | And then the old man shook his head, |    15 | 
  |   And with a natural sigh�?/TD>  |   | 
  | "'Tis some poor fellow's skull," said he, |    | 
  | "Who fell in the great victory. |    | 
  |    | 
  | "I find them in the garden, |    | 
  |   For there's many here about; |    20 | 
  | And often when I go to plough |    | 
  |   The ploughshare turns them out. |    | 
  | For many thousand men," said he, |    | 
  | "Were slain in that great victory." |    | 
  |    | 
  | "Now tell us what 'twas all about," |    25 | 
  |   Young Peterkin he cries; |    | 
  | And little Wilhelmine looks up |    | 
  |   With wonder-waiting eyes; |    | 
  | "Now tell us all about the war, |    | 
  | And what they fought each other for." |    30 | 
  |    | 
  | "It was the English," Kaspar cried, |    | 
  |   "Who put the French to rout; |    | 
  | But what they fought each other |    | 
  |   I could not well make out. |    | 
  | But everybody said," quoth he, |    35 | 
  | "That 'twas a famous victory. |    | 
  |    | 
  | "My father lived at Blenheim then, |    | 
  |   Yon little stream hard by; |    | 
  | They burnt his dwelling to the ground, |    | 
  |   And he was forced to fly: |    40 | 
  | So with his wife and child he fled, |    | 
  | Nor had he where to rest his head. |    | 
  |    | 
  | "With fire and sword the country round |    | 
  |   Was wasted far and wide, |    | 
  | And many a childing mother then |    45 | 
  |   And newborn baby died: |    | 
  | But things like that, you know, must be |    | 
  | At every famous victory. |    | 
  |    | 
  | "They say it was a shocking sight |    | 
  |   After the field was won, |    50 | 
  | For many thousand bodies here |    | 
  |   Lay rotting in the sun; |    | 
  | But things like that, you know, must be |    | 
  | After a famous victory. |    | 
  |    | 
  | "Great praise the Duke of Marlbro' won, |    55 | 
  |   And our good Prince Eugene"�?/TD>  |   | 
  | "Why 'twas a very wicked thing!" |    | 
  |   Said little Welhelmine; |    | 
  | "Nay—nay, my little girl," quoth he, |    | 
  | "It was a famous victory. |    60 | 
  |    | 
  | "And everybody praised the Duke |    | 
  |   Who this great fight did win"�?/TD>  |   | 
  | "But what good came of it at last?" |    | 
  |   Quoth little Peterkin. |    | 
  | "Why that I cannot tell," said he, |    65 | 
  | "But 'twas a famous victory." |    | 
  |   |