No, I won’t eat my greens! (Nein, meine Suppe eß ich nicht!)


Whenever one turns a corner in England, it looks different from how one expected, and that’s how it is with the old district around Shepherd’s Market, just behind Piccadilly. One can best recognize that it belongs there by the fact that it doesn’t fit in at all. And there is an already half-demolished house, with something black on top of it, like a roof tarpaulin. The whole thing makes a sad impression, and there are curtains behind some of the windows, so it is occupied. Still occupied downstairs and already demolished upstairs? What is that all about? It’s about a stubborn-headed man.

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A Tavern in the Spessart (Das Wirtshaus im Spessart)


Würzburg; Saturday. Early in the morning, the two madmen break into my room in the ›White Lamb‹. »Get up! Police!«, and »How can you sleep in this air?« Jakopp in a new suit, dreadful to behold, Karlchen, baring his teeth and grinning in a mixture of mock derision and schadenfreude. The walking tour, which was announced a year ago, and has been repeatedly organized, arranged, and postponed, has finally come to pass. My God!

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