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Updated: June 8, 2025
"Donner und blitz!" exclaimed Herr Schlager, when he realized that the wet and sandy bag on the counter before him contained money, for he was too familiar with the chink of gold to mistake the sound. "Was haben sie, hier, Leopold?" "Money, gold, specie, coin, geld," replied the boatman, hardly less excited than his Teutonic uncle. "So mooch golt!
Milton held that "a complete and generous education fits a man to perform justly, skilfully, and magnanimously all the offices, both private and public, of peace and war." It is my opinion that the Schläger has its part to play in this matter of education. A mind trained to the keenness of a razor's edge, but without a sound body controlled by a steel will, is of small account in the world.
"To keep our hands in, as you would say. You Americans are a brave people without the Schlager. But we fought that we might not become effete." It was then that Stephen ventured to ask a question that, had been long burning within him. "See here, Mr. Korner," said he, "how did Richter come by that scar? He always gets red when I mention it. He will never tell me."
"I think he was the best man with the Schlager that Jena ever saw. Even Korner likes not to stand against him in mask and fencing hat, all padded. Eh, Rudolph?" Herr Korner gave a good-natured growl of assent. "I have still a welt that he gave me a month since," he said. "He has left his mark on many an aristocrat." "And why did you always fight the aristocrats?" Stephen asked.
We were at a halt for a minute, I remember, when a rider in a chapeau with a plume, and a hooked nose underneath, trotted up, wrapped in a military cloak, and somebody said it was Wellington." Grandfather was sure to be at a white heat before he had finished, and so, too, his audience. The athletic student grandson, with a deep scar across his cheek from a Schläger cut, rose and paced the room.
Then, lighting the spirit-lamp which he used with his blow-pipe, he melted a large mass of sealing-wax upon the knot of the red tape, and pressed upon it the great seal hanging from his watch-chain. Herr Schlager was a simple-minded man, and doubtless he believed that the seal was a perfect protection to the contents of the bag.
You, my friend, who have never heard the whistle of sharp Schlager cannot know the song which a skilled arm draws from the blade. It was music that morning: You should have seen the noble's mighty strokes 'Prim und Second und Terz und Quart'. You would have marked how Richter met him at every blow. Von Kalbach never once took his eyes from the blue smoke from the bowl.
It is folly to maintain, that it does not require pluck and courage to stand up to a swinging Schläger, and take your punishment without flinching, and then to sit without a murmur while your wounds are sewn up and bandaged.
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