not think, his dream passed away in a whirl, he inclined his head, closed his eyes, and drifted off in a pleasant and blissful sea of the mysterious future days.
Then the ýs Gazette began the fight in earnest. In its editorials and in the news of the day, it shot off its arrows at Jiří, his candidacy, his principles, thoughts, and plans. The speech which he delivered on the island was called the babbling of a political baby; his life at Prague was laid bare, and they asked the question, whether that was a preparation for the serious, heavy struggle for the holy national rights. The feuilleton, which bore the title “Behind the Curtain,” was interlarded with a series of spicy gossip which, as everybody in town knew, was composed at the feminine sessions in the house near the common, and which the editor of the ruling party (a runaway student whose light hair of the color of straw hung down to his shoulders) put into literary form; this feu-
