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Updated: May 9, 2025
If you want to communicate with me on the subject, address Poste restante, Leipzig, or, better still, to the care of Y., so that the letter arrive in Leipzig on the 19th inst. Perhaps by that time you will have been able to settle the chief heads of the programme of "Blatter fur Gegenwart und Zukunft der Gesammt-Kunst" and to draw the outline of the whole scheme.
The versification of this was of a much higher Order, being fairly respectable. The air is old, and a familiar one to all college students, and belongs to one of the most common of German household songs: O, Tannenbaum! O, Tannenbaum, wie tru sind deine Blatter! Da gruenst nicht nur zur Sommerseit, Nein, auch in Winter, when es Schneit, etc. which Longfellow has finely translated,
"Yes?" inquired the other, enjoying his discomfiture. Gourlay lowered. "Whatna gate was this to gang on? Why couldn't he let a blatter out of his thin mouth, and ha' done wi't?" "I'm waiting!" said the lecturer. The words "I apologize" rose in Gourlay, but refused to pass his throat. No, he wouldn't, so he wouldn't!
She laughed with him at the tastelessness of the race which they were destined to marvel at more and more; but she made him own that the stewardesses whom they saw were charmingly like serving-maids in the 'Fliegende Blatter'; when they went ashore she challenged his silence for some assent to her own conclusion that the Colmannia was perfect. "She has only one fault," he assented. "She's a ship."
The "Long Minuet" and this last belong to that class of caricatures in which the figures form a continued story a line of humour which the Germans have developed in Fliegende Blätter, which Caran d'Ache has used with success in France, and which Pick-Me-Up, when it was under the able direction of Mr. Leslie Willson, scored many a good point with. =By H. W. Bunbury A FASHIONABLE SALUTATION=
A five-pfennig tip for Frau Dickleibig, and she brings you the Fliegende Blätter, Le Rire, the Munich or Berlin papers, whatever you want. A drowsy, hedonistic, easy-going place. Not much talk, not much rattling of crockery, not much card playing. The mountain, one guesses, of Munich meditation. The incubator of Munich gemütlichkeit.
Germany is the classic land of queer people. It is the land of Quintus Fixlein, Onkel Bräsig, Leberecht Hühnchen, and the host of Fliegende Blatter worthies; it is the land of the beer-garden and the Kaffeekranzchen, of the Christmas-tree and the Whitsuntide merry-making; it is the land of country inns and of student pranks.
They were so far appeased that they offered me my selection from the private stock. Happily the duke never read anything but the Fliegende Blätter and Jugend, and thus war was averted. Later an automobile agent visited the town at the secret bidding of her Highness but he was so unceremoniously hustled over the frontier that his teeth must have rattled like a dancer's castanets.
If you put Scotch and Irish humor under the microscope, you discover that most of the best Scotch and Irish jokes are as old as the Greeks and the Egyptians. You pick up a copy of Fliegende Blätter and you get keen amusement from its revelation of German humor. But how much of this humor, after all, is either essentially universal in its scope or else a matter of mere stage-setting and machinery?
When out of ear-shot I ask Pagan whether there are many gorillas, elephants, or bush cows round here. "Plenty too much," says he; and it occurs to me that the corn-fields are growing golden green away in England; and soon there rises up in my mental vision a picture that fascinated my youth in the Fliegende Blatter, representing "Friedrich Gerstaeker auf der Reise."
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