I looked at my friend--to my great surprise he seemed intoxicated with pleasure, his eyes were dancing with eager delight.

When the curtain at last fell, he burst into the stormiest applause, and kept it up--as did the whole house--until the afflictive tenor had come three times before the curtain to make his bow.

While the glowing enthusiast was swabbing the perspiration from his face, I said: "I don't mean the least harm, but really, now, do you think he can sing ?" "Him?
NO! GOTT IM HIMMEL, ABER, how he has been able to sing twenty-five years ago ?" [Then pensively.] "ACH, no, NOW he not sing any more, he only cry.

When he think he sing, now, he not sing at all, no, he only make like a cat which is unwell." Where and how did we get the idea that the Germans are a stolid, phlegmatic race?
In truth, they are widely removed from that.

They are warm-hearted, emotional, impulsive, enthusiastic, their tears come at the mildest touch, and it is not hard to move them to laughter.