As for the trifles that are not to be found in the trunk, it is quite natural that under such circumstances something should be lost, or even stolen.  The little amethyst ring I felt I ought to give to the nurse who attended my dear mother, whose wedding-ring was left on her finger. [A large blot.] The ink-bottle is so full, and I am too hasty in dipping in my pen, as you will perceive.  As for the watch, you have guessed rightly.  I sold it, but only got five louis-d’or for it, and that in consideration of the works, which were good; for the shape, as you know, was old-fashioned and quite out of date.  Speaking of watches, I must tell you that I am bringing one with me—­a genuine Parisian.  You know what sort of thing my jewelled watch was—­how inferior all the so-called precious stones were, how clumsy and awkward its shape; but I would not have cared so much about that, had I not been obliged to spend so much money in repairing and regulating it, and after all the watch would one day gain a couple of hours, and next day lose in the same proportion.  The one the Elector gave me did just the same, and, moreover, the works were even worse and more fragile.  I exchanged these two watches and their chains for a Parisian one which is worth twenty louis-d’or.  So now at last I know what o’clock it is; with my five watches I never got so far as that before!  At present, out of four, I have, at all events, one on which I can depend.

121.

Kaisersheim, Dec. 23, 1778.

Ma tres-chere cousine,—­

I write to you in the greatest haste, and in the deepest sorrow and remorse, and with the determined purpose to tell you that it is my intention to set off to-morrow to Munich.  I would, I assure you, gladly have gone to Augsburg, but the prelate was resolved to claim me, for which you cannot blame me.  It is my loss, so don’t be cross.  I may perhaps make an escapade from Munich to Augsburg, but this is by no means certain.  If you will be as glad to see me, as I shall be to see you, do come to the good town of Munich.  Be sure you come by the new year, that I may see your face so dear, and escort you far and near.  One thing I very much regret, which is that I cannot give you house-room, because I am not at an hotel, but am living with—­whom do you think?  I should like to know this myself [with the Webers].  But now Spassus apart.  For that very reason, and for my sake, it would be advisable you should come; perhaps you may have a great part to play, but at all events come.  I can then pay you in my own mighty person all proper compliments.  Now adieu, angel of piety!  I await you with anxiety.  Your sincere cousin,

W. A. Mozart.

P.S.—­Write to me forthwith to Munich, Poste Restante, a little note of twenty-four pages, but do not mention where you are to lodge, that I may not find you out nor you me.

122.

Munich, Dec. 29, 1778.