Morning was to the police-office, to procure a
passport and the all-important pass-warrant; my next to the custom-
house, to take possession of a small chest, which I had delivered up
five days before my departure, and which, as the expeditor affirmed,
I should find ready for me on my arrival at Prague. {6} Ah, Mr.
Expeditor! my chest was not there. After Saturday comes Sunday; but
on Sunday the custom-house is closed. So here was a day lost, a day
in which I might have gone to Dresden, and even visited the opera.
On Monday morning I once more hastened to the office in anxious
expectation; the box was not yet there. An array of loaded wagons
had, however, arrived, and in one of these it might be. Ah, how I
longed to see my darling little box, in order that I might - NOT
press it to my heart, but unpack it in presence of the excise
officer!
I took merely a cursory glance at Prague, as I had thoroughly
examined every thing there some years before. The beautiful
"Graben" and Horse-market once more excited my admiration. It was
with a peculiar feeling that I trod the old bridge, from which St.
John of Nepomuk was cast into the Moldau for refusing to publish the
confession of King Wenceslaus' consort.
