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"In the afternoon," wrote a man of the 18th Reserve Division, "we had to go out again; we were to learn to sing. The greater part did not join in, and the song went feebly. Then we had to march round in a circle and sing, and that went no better. After that we had an hour off, and on the way back to billets we were to sing 'Deutschland uber Alles, but this broke down completely.
"I really cannot tell you," said the Lady-in-waiting. "It is too dreadful." "Then you must whisper it," said the Princess. So she whispered it. "He is very rude," said the Princess, and she walked away. But she had gone only a few steps when the bells sounded so sweetly: "Ach du lieber Augustin Alles ist weg, weg, weg!"
An improvised Boche band was playing a precarious version of "Deutschland, Deutschland, uber Alles," at the conclusion of which, some of our mouth-organ experts retaliated with snatches of ragtime songs and imitations of the German tune. Suddenly we heard a confused shouting from the other side. We all stopped to listen. The shout came again.
Thou could'st not prize the rose and the nightingale, but thou wast ready to kiss the swineherd for the sake of a trumpery plaything. Thou art rightly served." He then went back to his own little kingdom, and shut the door of his palace in her face. Now she might well sing, "Ach! du lieber Augustin, Alles ist weg, weg, weg!"
Then he proposed his theory of germinal selection, determinants growing and multiplying in competition, some perhaps disappearing altogether, though this does not satisfactorily account for entirely new characters. With Weismann, however, every species was a different adaptation, and natural selection was the deus ex machina; to quote his own words, Alles ist angepasst.
I promised her not to go back without you. Shall we drive on?" Alles vergängliche ist nur ein Gleichniss. Michael was dying. All night Magdalen and the Bishop, with nurse and doctor, fought for his life, vainly strove to stem the stream of blood with which his life was ebbing away. He had been found by Lord Lossiemouth and a servant lying unconscious at the foot of the staircase in the hall.
In few words that is the gospel of Deutschland, Deutschland, über alles. These are the motives which inspired Germany's naval expansion and forbade her to accept a compromise.
All games and amusements have been abandoned, and the only relaxation is corps marching through the streets at night, singing their hate songs and "Deutschland, Deutschland uber Alles." The girls, in like fashion, often spend their school interval in marching in columns of four, singing the same horrible chants.
In nineteen-seventeen a few declared themselves pacifists and conscientious objectors, and, little recking what they were in for, marched off triumphantly to a military prison, feeling like Christ and longing for a public cross. The others, those that were young enough, shouldered a gun and went to the front with high hearts and hardened muscles. Democracy ueber alles.
The blonde sailors of the schooner shouted in reply to the acclamations of their comrades on the submersibles, "Deutchsland über alles!..." But this enthusiasm, equivalent to a song of triumph in the midst of the solitude of the sea, lasted but a very short time. Whistles sounded, men ran over the steel decks and Ferragut saw his vessel invaded by two files of seamen.
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