manner of apologies. As it proved, Beethoven had got up early in the morning, and, slipping on a miserable old coat and, without a hat, had gone out to walk a little. He got upon the towpath of the canal and kept on and on; seems to have lost his direction, for, with nothing to eat, he had continued on until he brought up at the canal-basin at the Ungerthor. Here, not knowing where he was, he was seen looking in at the windows of the houses, and as he looked so like a beggar the people had called a constable who arrested him. Upon his arrest the composer said, “I am Beethoven.” “Of course, why not?” (_Warum nicht gar?_) said the policeman; “You’re a tramp: Beethoven doesn’t look so.” (_Ein Lump sind Sie; so sieht der Beethoven nicht aus._) Herzog gave him some decent clothes and the burgomaster sent him back to Baden, where he was then living, in the magisterial state-coach. This simple story is the foundation for the fine narrative related as a fact in Vienna that Beethoven had got into this scrape following troops from Vienna who had a sham battle near Wiener Neustadt, and taking notes for his “Wellington’s Victory”--which whole story thus goes to the wall. A letter written from Baden on September 10, 1821, to Tobias Haslinger accompanying a canon[33] on the words “O Tobias _dominus_ Haslinger, O, O!” deserves to be given here to show that Beethoven’s high spirits could at times dominate him in spite of his general misery. Very best fellow! Yesterday, in the carriage on the way to Vienna, I was overcome by sleep, naturally enough, since (because of my early rising here) I had never slept well. While thus slumbering I dreamed that I had made a long journey--to no less distant a country than Syria, no less than India, back again, no less than Arabia, finally I reached Jerusalem; the Holy City aroused in me thoughts of Holy Writ and small wonder that the man Tobias now occurred to me, and how natural that our little Tobias should enter my mind and the _pertobiasser_, and now during my dream journey the following canon came to me: “O Tobias _dominus_ Haslinger, O, O!” But scarcely awakened, away went the canon and nothing of it would come back to my memory. But when, next day, I was on my way hither in the same conveyance (that of a poor Austrian musician) and continued the dream journey of the day before, now awake, behold, according to the laws of association of ideas, the same canon occurred to me again; now fully awake I held it fast, as erst Menelaus held Proteus, only allowing it to change itself into 3 voices.