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Old Márton during this well-deserved drubbing kept moving the scalp of his head back and forth in assent, and then came after me with a candle, to light me along the corridor to the door of my room, singing behind me these jesting verses: "Hab i ti nid gsagt Komm um halbe Acht? Und du Kummst mir jetzt um halbe naini Jetzt ist de Vater z'haus, kannst nimmer aini."

"Dearest," he said, smiling, "it is wrong of me, perhaps, to worry you about such very fearful things as those; let us go in, and find something to do that is useful, and not trouble ourselves with them any more." "O Freude, habe Acht! Sprich leise, Dass nicht der Schmerz erwacht!"

In that kingdom of evil he sees that there will be no power but his own. These gods, with their moralities and legalities and intellectual subtlety, will go under and be starved out of existence. He bids Wotan and Loki beware of it; and his "Hab' Acht!" is hoarse, horrible, and sinister. Wotan is revolted to the very depths of his being: he cannot stifle the execration that bursts from him.

But he was thoroughly roused when Krafft, picking up a sheet of music and coming round to the front of the piano, began to sing DAS TRUNKENE LIED. By way of introduction, the low F in the bass of F minor sounded persistently, at syncopated intervals; Schilsky inclined his head, and Krafft sang, in his sweet, flute-like voice: Oh, Mensch! Gieb Acht! Was spricht die tiefe Mitternacht?

The law is proclaimed with: "Was entstanden ist, dass mus vergehen, Was vergangen, auferstehen!" And all the orchestra, the choirs, and the organ, join in the hymn of Eternal Life. O Mensch! Gib Acht! gib Acht! Was spricht die tiefe Mitternacht?" O Man! Have care! Have care! What says dark midnight? The fifth part is a gay and stirring chorus founded on a popular legend.

Kein Gott, kein Heiland, erlöst ihn je Aus diesen singenden Flammen! Nimm dich in Acht, das wir dich nicht Zu solcher Hölle verdammen.” As a prosaist, Heine is, in one point of view, even more distinguished than as a poet. The German language easily lends itself to all the purposes of poetry; like the ladies of the Middle Ages, it is gracious and compliant to the Troubadours.

He waved me off. "Yes; go on, you; I coom py undt py; I dtink t'ere iss vun maud come into dot gardten, vhat I haf not pefore seen since more as acht years, alreadty!" "Yes," I retorted, "and so you're here at the gate alone. Now come right along with me! Aren't there enough lives in danger to-night, but you must" -He stopped me in the middle of the street. "Mine Gott! vhat iss dot you say?

Sometimes he was half the night arguing with himself about the various prices and qualities of this useful article, but I did not understand enough of his blat deutsch to gather the drift of the argument. Mein Gott! Ich kann nicht schlafen!" Here he would jump up and shout "Kellner! Kellner! ein flask bier! sechs und zechzig zweimal acht und vierzig! Kellner, flask bier! Liebe Gott was ist das?

It took a rise yesterday Zweimal zwey macht vier, und sechsmal vier macht vier und zwanzig! verstehen sie?" "Gott im Himmel!" said I, "you don't say so?" "Ya, freilich!" groaned Herr Batz, hoarsely: "Zwey tausent rubles! verstehen sie? Sechs und dreissig, und acht und vierzig."