A month elapsed, no answer came; but at the end of the month another mutilated “Century” arrived.  This time I waited two or three days in the hope of inventing an epistle which should be more forcible—­if such a thing were possible—­than my last, and yet calm.  The letter was half written when an official envelope made its appearance from Petersburg, containing cut pages and an apologetic explanation to the effect that the Moscow censor, through an oversight, had not been duly instructed in his duty toward me.  A single glance showed me that the inclosed sheets belonged to the number just received, not to the preceding number.  I drove immediately to the Moscow office and demanded the censor.  “You can tell me what you want with him,” said the ante-room Cerberus.  “Send me the censor,” said I. After further repetition, he retired and sent in a man who requested me to state my business.  “You are not the censor,” I said, after a glance at him.  “Send him out, or I will go to him.”  Then they decided that I was a connoisseur in censors, and the proper official made his appearance, accompanied by an interpreter, on the strength of the foreign name upon my card.  Convinced that the latter would not understand English well, like many Russians who can talk the language fluently enough, I declined his services, produced my documents from the Petersburg censor, and demanded restitution of the other confiscated article.  I obtained it, being allowed my pick from a neatly labeled package of contraband goods.  That scratched, cut, caviared magazine is now in my possession, with the restored sheets and the censor’s apology appended.  It is my proof to unbelievers that the Russian censor is not so black as he is painted.

As we shook hands with this Moscow official, after a friendly chat, I asked him if he would be a little obtuse arithmetically as to the old and new style of reckoning, and let me have my January “Century” if it arrived before my departure for Petersburg, as my license expired January 1.  He smilingly agreed to do so.  I also called on the Moscow book censor, to find some books.  The courtesy and readiness to oblige me on the part of the officials had been so great, that I felt aggrieved upon this occasion when this censor requested me to return on the regular business day, and declined to overhaul his whole department for me on the spot.  I did return on the proper day, and watched operations while due search was being made for my missing property.  It reached me a few days later, unopened, the delay having occurred at my banker’s, not in the post-office or censor’s department.

On my return to Petersburg, my first visit was to the censor’s office, where I copied my original petition, signed it, and dismissed the matter from my mind until my February “Century” reached me with one article missing and two articles spoiled.  I paid another visit to the office, and was informed that my petition for a renewal of permission had not been granted.