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Updated: May 26, 2025
The illusion is perfect, and the audience is enchanted that ride through the velvet night, so still, so quaint, so roguish in its way, and the flash far below, that has flung some unsuspecting citizen on the cobblestones like a bundle of old rags. And, whirring gently, the Taube sails on through the night: 'Ich glaube.. Da oben fliegt Ich glaube.. 'ne Taube'
And as they fly they sing a wistful little waltz song, a sort of cradle song: "Ich glau-u-be... Ich glau-u-be Da oben fliegt... 'ne Taube..." They are thinking, so the song runs, that there is a Taube overhead; it has flown here out of its German nest, and let's hope it will not let anything fall on them.
"Jene Tanzerinn Fliegt, mit leichtem Sinn Und noch leichtern Kleide Durch den Saal der Freude Wie ein Zephyr bin, etcetera." The head of Jedediah Hazlet was somewhat confused, when, after the play and an oyster supper in the cider cellars, it sank deep into the reposeful down of a spare chamber in the gay Sir Rollo Bruce's London house. The next morning was Sunday.
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