Alas, what is man without money? A twice-told anecdote, a song without a tune, a lost poodle-dog without an honest finder, last year’s calendar, etc., etc.
Without money no prince can reign, no minister can minister, no general can make war, no painter can paint, no farmer can till the field; only the bards and poets sing and make verses without money; the poet is true to his muse even though he has no money; indeed he muses more than ever—how to get some.
M. G. Saphir (1795-1858).
A NIGHT IN THE BREMER RATHSKELLER.
IT struck ten o’clock as I descended the broad steps of the Rathskeller. There was a reasonable hope of finding it empty, for a storm was howling without, the weather-cocks were making strange music, and the rain splashed upon the pavement. But the kellerdiener gave me a questioning look when I told him my desire.
“What, so late, and to-night of all nights?” he exclaimed.
“It’s never too late for me before twelve,” I answered; “and after that it is early enough in the day.”
“Are you expecting company?” asked the man.
“I am alone.”
“You might have some unasked,” he added, looking about timorously at the shadows his lamp cast.