He Merely Has Gross Tonnage In
The Place Where His Digestive Apparatus Ought To Be.
The time to see a German enjoying himself is when he is following
his own bent and not obeying the imperial edict of his gracious
sovereign.
I had a most excellent opportunity of observing him
while engaged in his own private pursuits of pleasure when by
chance one evening, in the course of a solitary prowl, I bumped
into a sort of Berlinesque version of Coney Island, with the island
part missing. It was not out in the suburbs where one would
naturally expect to find such a resort. It was in the very middle
of the city, just round the corner from the cafe district, not
more than half a mile, as the Blutwurst flies, from Unter den
Linden. Even at this distance and after a considerable lapse of
time I can still appreciate that place, though I cannot pronounce
it; for it had a name consisting of one of those long German
compound words that run all the way round a fellow's face and lap
over at the back, like a clergyman's collar, and it had also a
subname that no living person could hope to utter unless he had a
thorough German education and throat trouble. You meet such nouns
frequently in Germany. They are not meant to be spoken; you gargle
them. To speak the full name of this park would require two
able-bodied persons - one to start it off and carry it along until
his larynx gave out, and the other to take it up at that point and
finish it.
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