Punch (71.1876)

76 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [August 19, 1876.

A JUMP AT A CONCLUSION.

Gcraldine. " You shan't be my Aunt : you shall be my Sister ! "
Aunt Anne. "No. I am your Papa's Sister, and so I must be your
Aunt."

Oeraldine (after a pause). ''Then, was Papa my Uncle before he was

married ? "

alte mann, you will comprehend when I remind you that Your Representative
was educated for an Architect,* in which line I should have undoubtedly
excelled, had not my modesty and unselfishness . . . But I am not here to
write my memoirs. These will come iu good time.

"We are living at a charming boarding-house near the Black Forest. You
have often heard of the Boarders of the Black Forest, eh ? Well, that's where
we are.t

In the morning it is delightful to hear the warbliing of the birds, the shreiken
of the night owl, the wild wood notes of the cockaleeken, the chirrupen of the
cockelollen-burd, and the bumbelen (humming) of a myriaden der insekten (of
a myriad insects—this is all low-Bavarian, the language here of the family
circles), which are in themselves a rare education for the neophyte who
would unterkpnstumbulen (understand) the genius of mein lieb alte Waggy.

Our meeting at the station was immensely touching—we were in each

* " An Architect.'" This is news : but nothing surprises us, as we always told him to
his face that he was a very clever man.—Ed.

t We have heard of the "borders of the Black Forest," but not of a boarding-house in
that romantic spot. If our Contributor is joking with us, it is a pity, as, with this vague
address, it is impossible for us, with any degree of security, to forward him the "de guoi
vivre," in point of fact the usual honorarium for expenses. This, however, causes us little
or no anxiety, as our esteemed Representative, being such a master of languages, and being
so well known to the renowned Maestro, Herr Wagner himself (whom he calls " Old
Waggy," as we learn from his letter), will never be at a loss, should our -handsome
remittance fail to arrive, as it certainly will do on the present occasion. We think it due
to ourselves to mention our reason for not posting the remittance, publicly beforehand, so as
to forestall any subsequent reprisals and complaints on the part of our esteemed Corre-
spondent. [Also, if he is on the borders of the Black Forest, why does he date from
117, Schnitzelstrasse, which street we have been utterly unable to find in our plan of
Bayreuth, which, however, we will honestly admit, is an old copy of ten years ago. Yet it

other's arms in two-twos, kissengen (kissing) one
another's cheeken (cheeks), with that expansion and
effusion of affection which only two such old chiim-
men-und-pallen (equivalent to " college and school-
fellows") as old Here Waggy and myself could possibly
experience. Bang went the drums, clash went the cymbals,
which der Meister (the master) had thoughtfully provided
to divert public attention from us as we wept, droppen-
die-joien (tears of joy), over each other's shoulder.

" Was wunschen Sie ? " were the first words he could
speak.

I replied, glibly, " Geben Sie mir etwas Wein etwas
Ochsbraten, etwas Salat, eine halbe Taube, das Oel,
etwas Spinat, einen Hecht, eine Pfersiche und eine
Fl-asche moussirenden Champagner',"*

In a second, it was before us.

" Zo ist gut!" I exclaimed. "Nun danke sie
Ilimmel! Ja ! Zo ! "

We are having a first-rate time of it. Such a party
last night. Myself the life and soul of it of course. It
was musical and merry. Waggish and Wagnerian ! I
played my Leatherlungen with a trilogy in b minor,
which they had never heard before.

"If," said old Waggy, emphatically, "if that sym-
phony grand-and-heart-and-soul-interior-stirring this
time I before had heard, never again of music a note
would I myself have written! "

And for three minutes he was silent, buried in deep
thought. I tapped him on the back, and whispered in
his ear, 11 Lieb Meister" I said, "the idea is yours. Take
it and be happy." He was overjoyed and immediately
went into his bedroom to re-touch the Nibelungen, which
is taken from an unpublished work of mine, Die Nibberto-
latetomenden, libretto by Charles B/eade.t

Our party consisted of the King of Bavaria, who has
still some good notes in his voice, only he will take too
much stodgen-sassinger (a sort of delicate sausage made
of boar's flesh, truffles, garlic, veal, and underdone
beef), at dinner, three Serene Transparencies, who quite
lighted up during the evening, though a trifle dull at
first, four Grand Dukes, and six Grand Duchesses, who
sang a decemtette in b flat of the musiken der Zimmer
order, with much taste and feeling.

Then we had three ordinary Dukes, who misbehaved
themselves shockingly, and who were subsequently re-
moved to die station-hauser by the Bobben-politzei (con-
stabulary), and were not let off next morning until they
had paid a fine, two-and-a-half silber groschen each,
which was ordered by the ivorthe-beke (Magistrate) to be
placed in the poor's-box.

The Emperor of Austria sang his own hymn, accom-
panying himself on the concertina, very fairly for an
amateur, only he will overdo the action, and get so
much all ober-die-schoppen (all over the shop), that
there's no coming within a mile of him. I am out-
running my space, so must finish, but not without telling
you a few of my splitter sider en (or jokes that nearly
make you burst •with laughter), with which I have en-
livened the company in this out-of-the-way-but-at-
present-fashionably, scientifically, operatically, and ar-
tistically-crowded place.

All our jokes and conversation are musical, bien
entenda.

Here is a specimen of a few of my crakj'dken, as the
Swedes call them—of my fu?mimentos, as the Spaniards
have it,

* A friend who is just off to the Continent with his pocket full
of Murrays, Bradshaws, and Conversation books, has just this
minute looked in. He declares that every word of this excellent
German is to be found in a Manual of Conversation for the
Traveller, under the head of Das Abendessen. Yet, on second
thoughts, why shouldn't it be ? Our Correspondent would cer-
tainly not ask Herr Wagner for dishes which were not in the
language of the country. Of course, it is as well to be cautious;
but we are inclined to think that our visitor (who has gone)
was a trifle hypercritical. The question to our mind is, does
Our Correspondent really speak low-Bavarian dialects or not ?'
If he does . . . yet, still, he may have recourse to his Con-
versation book for his best German. We will think it out, and
while thinking it out, we can temporarily withhold remit-
tances.—Ed.

t No, we never did hear of this. Why has this work been so
long hidden away ? We can hardly believe it: and yet,— we
will write toMn. Charles Beade, and put the matter in his
hands. If the statement is untrue, Mr. Beade can put the en-
gine of the law at work, and he may depend upon us for giving

is odd.—Ed.] | him every assistance in our power.—Ed