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When the young men from the Gymnasium come into the freedom of university life, they toss their heads a bit, kick up their heels, laugh long and loud at the Philistine, but just as every German climax is incomplete without tears, so they too are soon singing: "Ich weiss nicht was soll es bedeuten dass ich so traurig bin!" the gloom of the Teutoburger Wald settles down on them, and they buckle to and work with an enduring patience such as few other men in the world display, and join the great army here who, bitted and harnessed, are pulling the Vaterland to the front.
At the bottom of the box I found a card that read: "For it is impossible to live in a room with red roses and still be traurig." How well he knew! And how truly impossible to be sad when red roses are glowing for one, and filling the air with their fragrance! The interruption was fatal to book-writing.
His hands trembled, great tears trickled down his cheeks. He read on: Auf! Auf! gieb deinem Schmerze Und Sorgen gute Nacht! Lass fahren was das Herze Betruebt und traurig macht! Up! Up! and give thy sorrow And all thy cares good-night; And all that grieves and saddens Thy heart be put to flight.
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