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Corks popped spasmodically. Again there were sounds much like a man's sobbing; but these were promptly blared down by a phonograph with a typically American accent. When that palled, a sentimental disciple of frightfulness sang Tannenbaum in a melting tenor. Everything tended to effect an impression that all, commander and meanest mechanic alike, were making forlorn efforts to forget.

He went to bed at ten o'clock on Christmas Eve, when the streets were surging with voices and gay steps, when rollicking piano-tunes from across the street penetrated even closed windows, and a German voice as rich as milk chocolate was caressing, "Oh Tannenbaum, oh Tannenbaum, wie grün sind deine Blätter."... Then slept for nine hours, woke with rapturous remembrance that he didn't have to go to the office, and sang "The Banks of the Saskatchewan" in his bath.

Maury Noble remarked one afternoon that his real name was Tannenbaum, and that he was a German agent kept in this country to disseminate Teutonic propaganda through Westchester County, and, after that, mysterious letters began to arrive from Philadelphia addressed to the bewildered Oriental as "Lt.

I understand he constantly gets mail addressed to Lieutenant Emile Tannenbaum. MAURY: I may be accusing him falsely. But, you haven't told me what you've been doing. PARAMORE: For one thing writing. MAURY: Fiction? PARAMORE: No. Non-fiction. MAURY: What's that? A sort of literature that's half fiction and half fact? PARAMORE: Oh, I've confined myself to fact.

"Cheer up, Gloria!" suggested Maury. "You seem the least bit depressed." "I'm not," she lied. "Here, Tannenbaum!" he called over his shoulder. "I've filled you a drink. Come on!" Gloria tried to stay his arm. "Please don't, Maury!" "Why not? Maybe he'll play the flute for us after dinner. Here, Tana." Tana, grinning, bore the glass away to the kitchen. In a few moments Maury gave him another.

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,

She raised him in her arms an' held him close. A great music-box in a corner began to play: "'O tannenbaum! O tannenbaum! wie grun sind deine blaetter! "Then with laughter an' merry jests we emptied the pack, an' gathered from the tree whose fruit has fed the starving human heart for more than a thousand years, an' how it filled those friends o' mine!

They may watch from the Schlossgarten at Heidelberg the sun go down beyond the Rhine over Alsace, then again united to France; they may wander again in friendly talk with some forester under the pines of the Schwarzwald and listen to the singing of the familiar Volkslieder Tannenbaum or Haiden Röslein by a people who have a natural gift for song; they may in Nuremberg again look with delight on the marvels in stone wrought by its craftsmen or seek out the hidden meanings in the mystic art of Albrecht Dürer; perhaps be whirled along in the Isar "rolling rapidly" through the baths of Munich or plunge in the crystal depths of the König See; from the highlands of Bavaria they may lift up their eyes to the long ranges of the snowy Alps of Tyrol, and, as the decennial cycle comes round and the reverent peasants re-enact the sacred drama, may make their pilgrimage to Ammergau and share the thrill passing along the crowded benches when the children's voices are heard, and they enter, waving their palm branches, that those who watch their beautiful counterfeit may recall, with imagination vivid like a child's, another procession of joyous children, nineteen hundred years ago.

Alphonsus while mass was being celebrated. Many arrests followed this bold attempt to emulate the French Revolutionists. Though sympathizers raised $7500 bail for the ringleader, Tannenbaum loyally refused to accept it as long as any of his "army" remained in jail. Squads of his men entered restaurants, ate their fill, refused to pay, and then found their way to the workhouse.

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,