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Updated: June 17, 2025
One can easily imagine the general drift of the philosophical discussions that took place during the lengthening evenings of September, 1785, when we find Schiller expressing himself to the absent Huber in such language as this: But life at Loschwitz was not lived altogether in the upper altitudes of solemn philosophy.
She perked up her head with her young red mouth open in almost childish puzzlement, as much as to say, "Why, what are balls for?" Gard looked down on his fattening supply of smoking sausages and honey cakes. A servants' ball might be just the thing to cure his disgust with Loschwitz with himself with everything.
Very delightful, too, were the picnics arranged between us and our friends at some of the beautiful spots around Dresden, for these excursions were always brightened by a certain artistic spirit and general good cheer. I remember one such outing we arranged to Loschwitz, where we made a kind of gypsy camp, in which Carl Maria von Weber played his part in the character of cook.
That's one way to fool the German bed. If I saw yours I might be able to suggest something." Anderson frankly expressed a desire to visit the Loschwitz home. So on Gard's invitation they had lunch and went out to his suburb. They took off the bed clothes, including the two huge feather bolsters in the center.
"I have been to the Hôtel de Saxe," he replies, with a rather triumphant smile on his handsome mustacheless lips. "I thought I would find out about Loschwitz." "Find out what?" cry I, standing still, raising my voice a little, and growing even redder than the sun, the flies, the brown-paper parcel, and the heavy umbrella, have already made me. "There was nothing to find out!
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