On the third day I went with a transport of recruits to Ingolstadt, which then was the quarters of the Bavarian artillery. I entered that city with feelings different from those with which I had left it as Academician. But the thought of my invention elevated my spirit to a certain dignity and comforted me with the prophecy of a better future. I was presented to the chief of company and slept a night in the barracks, where unpleasant remarks and the conduct of a vulgar corporal cast heavy shadows over the coming soldiering. Next morning, when I was to be enrolled and named Prague as my birth-place, I was informed that a recent royal order shut out all foreigners from the Bavarian service. So I started on my return, poorer by a hope, but not in entire despair. As I looked down from the Danube bridge into the majestic stream, where as a student I was nearly drowned once, I could not quite prevent the thought that my rescue at that time had not been fortunate, since a too unkind fate seemed to deny me even the one means of support, open to the most helpless, that of the army. Still, though cheated by hope a thousand times, I ever followed her lures again, and a new plan instantly formed itself to replace the one that had just gone to wreck. I decided to give up my literary work for the time being and work as a printer for wages. Some very badly printed music that I bought in Ingolstadt awakened the idea that with my new printing process I could furnish much better work. I decided to go at once to Herr Falter, the music-dealer of Munich, to interest him in my invention and obtain a small advance of money. Had I done this, my art might have been more thoroughly perfected long ago; but, again, it might never have been developed as it has been, for it was amply sufficient already for music-printing. My shyness, however, prevented me from addressing Herr Falter. Twice I was at his door, and each time I retreated. The second time I met a good acquaintance, a musician named Schrott. In reply to my inquiry if he knew Herr Falter, he said "No," but he told me that the court musician, Gleissner, had paid recently to have several masses printed and intended to publish some more church music soon. Who was happier than I over this news! Herr Gleissner was a good friend of old. While I was in the theatre I had engaged him to compose several songs, and had found him a humane and righteous man. Within half an hour I was in his house and explaining my invention to his wife, he being absent. I aroused her interest so much that she seemed thoroughly eager to have me hurry back with a little press model, in order to show them both the working of the process. The entire behavior of the woman was so open and artless that I dismissed my first thought, "I might be cheated out of my invention," and hurried to Herr Gleissner in the afternoon with my simple apparatus.