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"Sie sprach zu ihm behende, Wie lasst du mich so lang In der Obrigkeit Hande? Hilf mir aus ihren Zwang, Wie du mir hast verheissen, Ich bin ja eben dein, Thu mich aus der Angst entreissen O liebster Buhle mein? Him, when the witch saw, she thought he was her familiar. She said to him quickly, "Why hast thou left me so long in the magistrate's hands?
Be my sowl, it's yourself that can send home the whi word, your Rev-a-ence, in a way that it won't aisly be forgotten. How-an-iver, sure hell resave the wie o me, but threwn back his dirty religion to Lucre an' left him an' it although he offered, if I'd remain wid them, to put Johnny Short out, and make me full gaoler. My Lord, says I, 'thruth's best.
Of his compositions H.E. Krehbiel in 1892 recorded the opinion that they "entitled him to a position among the foremost musicians in this country." He is an uncle of Arthur Whiting. G.W. Marston's setting of the omnipresent "Du bist wie eine Blume" is really one of the very best Heine's poem has ever had. Possibly it is the best of all the American settings.
Men of every age and nationality were eating, drinking, smoking and talking. Some of them knew Herr Gottfried, some did not. "Wie gehts, Gottfried?"
"'Oh haud your tongue, says Roger the Codger, 'And wie your pleading let me be; For though-'" "Hallo!" "What is the matter?" asked Bell, who had been listening with high approval to the ballad. "Why, here is the Codger himself, back again. I thought he was not coming till night. What's up, Codger?"
But it is no less true that, as respects a higher power and a future state, man, in the language of Goethe's scoffing friend, "bleibt stets von gleichem Schlag, Und ist so wunderlich als wie am ersten Tag." The history of Catholicism strikingly illustrates these observations.
"And because you not always can keep your eyes shut there comes the real trouble the heart pain the world pain. I tell you, my friend, it is not good for you to find you cannot make your dream come true, for the reason that you not strong enough are, or not clever enough. . . . Ja! . . . And all the time you are such a fine fellow too! Wie? Was? Gott im Himmel! How can that be? Ha! ha! ha!"
And the splashing water drenches Their dirty brats and wenches; And they crawl from bales and benches, In a hundred thousand stenches. Wie ist der Sturm jetzt brausend!" And looked at Captain Lewis, Who calmly stood and blew his Cigar in all the bustle, And scorned the tempest's tussle.
The bringing up of the boys he deigned to approve of: 'FAST SO GUT WIE EIN BAUER, was his trenchant criticism. The attention and courtly respect with which Fleeming surrounded his wife, was something of a puzzle to the philosophic gillie; he announced in the village that Mrs.
Show me! He pulled the book away from Susanna, and planting a pair of round spectacles with silver rims on his nose, he began passing his finger along the lines. 'The upholsterer,.. the upholsterer... You'd chuck all the money out of doors! Nothing pleases you better!... Wie die Croaten! A bill indeed!
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