le is run rather close by Rad, or so it sounds at least, which
seems to be the old German _Rath_ slightly modified; of these also there
is a great and glorious variety. You have Pan (Mister) President for the
august being who presides over boards of financial, commercial or
industrial enterprise; Pan Inspectors are also plentiful and in highly
variegated form. In fact, there is quite an imposing array of titled
dignitaries who as true republicans have risen by their own merits. As
yet the "leprosy of decorations," as Dr. Seton Watson describes the
outbreak of coloured ribbons on manly chests, its spread in inverse
ratio to danger incurred, has not assumed undue proportions--but who
knows? I must, however, get back to the 6th of July and tell you how the
memory of John Hus is kept green.

A glance at the streets on that day shows you groups of wayfarers
carrying wreaths, and they converge on the square outside the Old Town
Hall where stands the monument to John Hus. The shop windows display
portraits of the Czech national hero, which is also reproduced inset in
wreaths, and this recalls to my mind the same day in 1918, when I first
became aware of what Master John Hus stands for to this people of
tenacious memory.

It was a day of pure Italian colour, that 6th of July, 1918, when I set
out from among those lovely Colline Euganie towards the front among the
Alps. First along broad, well-kept roads, through the plains of Veneto,
where trellised vine hung heavy laden, past homesteads, villas of warm
ochre hues or red, or pink, and all embowered in rich green foliage.
Through the narrow winding streets of graceful Vicenza, across the
arcaded market-place of old Verona, past the stately ruins of
Montecchio, till the road reached the foothills of the Alps. Then up by
hairpin turns, gaining an ever wider view of the vast plain lying in a
morning haze beyond which you knew was Venice and the blue Adriatic,
then down by winding ways into a valley. An outpost in Italian
field-grey uniform, not men of the Italian type, but stocky, fair-haired
and square-jawed, their collars decorated with red and white tabs. Every
group displayed a wreath, within it an effigy of John Hus, for these
soldiers were of the Czecho-Slovak Legion, and they were for the first
time in their lives allowed to commemorate without let or hindrance the
anniversary of their national hero's death. On this day five centuries
ago John Hus had met death at the stake