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 in an appearance with a bundle of all the overdue papers and a heap of letters. The address-slips on the newspapers had been torn through the envelopes of the letters had been cut open on one side and gummed down again. Aha, even an Empire can contrive to be inquisitive, and at such a serious time about the private affairs of a respectable rate-payer. Family letters, those dealing with literary affairs, from friends, picture postcards, bills, cards from the front, parcels of provisions,—all this was of interest to the State, all this it opened and examined.

Good, the signs are increasing, I thought to myself.

I have already mentioned the confiscations of my books. They began on St. Václav's day, when newspapers published a report that my volume of verses entitled "Drops" had been confiscated. This collection had appeared at the beginning of the year, and had been received by the critics, as far as I had seen their comments, either with benevolent praise or with a profound lack of comprehension,—as the majority of my books. I had long reflected and conjectured what the state officials could have found compromising in it, I reflected and conjectured in vain,—finally I said to myself: This is not the first instance, it will not be the last.

And it was not, as I have already said.

For December 5th I received a summons to attend the military divisional Court. I was to appear as a witness in the case of Dr. Kramář and associates, charged with infringing such and such paragraphs. In the morning at 9 o'clock at the Hernalser Gürtel: Signed Mottl, Colonel.

In the meanwhile a whole series of persons, well-known in our public life, changed their residences. They moved to the Hradchin, then to Vienna, and romantic rumours were woven about the reasons for their journeys. Nearly the whole editing staff of the suspen-