lled the 'Suabian Mercury,' and not
the 'Suabian Markery'? Sure it is a markery; because every thing that
happens is marked down there. Is 'Mercury' High German for 'Markery'?"

"You've caught the old robin in his nest," said the College Chap.
"You're right there, Mat: those fellows in Stuttgard don't know any
thing about it. If I was you I'd go down and tell 'em: they'll give you
a premium, depend upon it."

The teacher explained that Mercury had been the messenger of the gods,
and the god of trade, in ancient Greece.

"Yes; but how does he come to be called 'Suabian'?" asked Mat, again.

"Well, they chose to give that name to the paper," answered the
teacher. He had never thought about it himself.

"I want to know," began Hansgeorge: "did the Greecelanders believe in
more gods than one?"

"Of course," replied the College Chap. "One of 'em manured and the
other sowed, one rained and the other thundered: they had a particular
god or goddess for every particular job. The Greeks even allowed their
gods to marry."

"I guess they were saints or angels," said Wendel the mason, "or
tutelaries; but they must have had some sort of a captain over them, or
it would be a carnival stupid enough to split your sides with
laughing."

"You weren't by when they built the tower of Babel, neither, mason,"
said the College Chap. "Of course they had a captain, and a trump card
he was: he had a jealous wife, though, and she gave him lots of
trouble. Now, I'll leave it to the teacher whether all this isn't as
true as gospel."

Suppressing a sigh, the teacher gave the company a cursory sketch of
the Grecian mythology. Some of the wonders included in it created much
sensation. It occurred to him, also, how strange it was that he should
be expounding the Hellenic sages in a smoky bar-room of the Black
Forest. All this was the doing of the Suabian Mercury.

It was almost impossible to persuade the farmers that the Greeks were
not "jackasses." He told them of the wise and good Socrates, and of his
martyrdom.

"Why, that was almost as bad as the way they treated our Savior," said
Kilian of the Frog Alley.

"Certainly," replied the teacher. "Whoever undertakes to teach a new
and wholesome truth by its right name and without circumlocution must
take a cross for his pains." He sighed as he said this; for it seemed
to have some bearing upon his own case: the task he had undertaken was
not an easy one.

As they went away, the men said