ic Corps who desired it, there was
no real dearth of the "Century" at any time.

About this time, also, I had occasion to hunt up a package of
miscellaneous newspapers, which had lingered as such parcels are apt to
linger in all post-offices. In pursuance of my preconceived notions, I
jumped to the conclusion that the censor had them, regardless of the
contingency that they might have been lost out of Russia. I called to
ask for the papers. The official whom I found explained, with native
Russian courtesy, that I had come to the wrong place, that office being
devoted to foreign matter in book form; but that, in all probability,
the papers had become separated from their wrapper in the newspaper
department (which was heedless) when they had been opened for
examination, and hence it had been impossible to deliver them. Still,
they might have been detained for some good reason, and he would
endeavor to find some record of them.

While he was gone, my eyes fell upon his account-book, which lay open
before me. It constituted a sort of literary book-keeping. The entries
showed what books had been received, what had been forbidden, what was
to be erased, whose property had been manipulated, and, most interesting
of all, which forbidden books had been issued by permission, and to
whom. Among these I read the titles of works by Stepniak, and of various
works on Nihilism, all of which must certainly have come within the
category of utterly proscribed literature, and not of that which is
promptly forwarded to its address after a more or less liberal
sprinkling of "caviare." As I am not in the habit of reading private
records on the sly, even when thus tempted, I informed the official on
his return of my action, and asked a question or two.

"Do you really let people have these forbidden books?" "Certainly," was
his half-surprised, half-indignant reply. "And what can one have?"
"Anything," said he, "only we must, of course, have some knowledge of
the person. What would you like?"

I could only express my regret that I felt no craving for any prohibited
literature at that moment, but I told him that I would endeavor to
cultivate a taste in that direction to oblige him; and I suggested that,
as his knowledge of me was confined to the last ten minutes, I did not
quite understand how he could pass judgment as to what mental and moral
food was suited to my constitution, and as to the use I might make of
it. He laughed amiably, and s