“The very same, your Excellency,” he acquiesced.  “At least, that is the report.  It is commonly stated hereabouts that the god-trust has its headquarters here.  As for myself, I have explored its every nook and cranny, but I never saw any gods on it.  It’s my private opinion that they’ve moved away; though there be those who claim that it is still occupied by the former rulers of destiny living incog. like other well-born rogues who desire to avoid notoriety.”

Hippopopolis is a decided democrat in his views, and has less respect for the King than he has for the peasant.

“I shouldn’t call them rogues exactly,” I ventured.  “Some of ’em were a pretty respectable lot.  There was Apollo and old Jupiter himself, and—­”

“Oh, you can’t tell me anything about them,” retorted Hippopopolis.  “I haven’t been born and bred in this country for nothing, your Excellency.  They were a bad lot all through.  Shall I prepare your supper?”

“If you please, Hippopopolis,” said I, throwing myself down beneath a huge tree and giving myself up to the reveries of the moment.  I did not deem it well to interpose too strongly between Hippopopolis and his views of the immortals just then.  He had always a glitter in his eye when any one ventured to controvert his assertions which made a debate with him a thing to be apprehended.  Still, I did not exactly like to yield, for, to tell the truth, the Olympian folk have always interested me hugely, and, while I would not of course endorse any one of them for a high public trust in these days, I have admired them for their many remarkable qualities.

“Of course,” said I, reverting to the question a few moments later, as Hippopopolis opened a box of sardines and set the bread a-toasting on the fire he had made.  “Of course, I should not venture to say that I, a stranger, know as much about the private habits of the gods as do you, who have been their neighbor; but that they are rogues is news to me.”

“That may be, too,” said Hippopopolis.  “People are often thought more of by strangers than by their own fellow-townsmen.  Even you, sir, I might suspect, who are by these simple Greeks supposed to be a sort of reigning sovereign in your own country, are not at home, perhaps, so large a hill of potatoes.  So with Jupiter and Apollo and Mercury, and the ladies of the court.  I haven’t a doubt that in the United States you think Jupiter a remarkably great man, and Apollo a musician, and Mercury a gentleman of some business capacity, but we Greeks know better.  And as for the ladies—­hum—­well, your Excellency, they are not received.  They are too bold and pushing.  They lack the refinements, and as for their beauty and accomplishments—­”

Hippopopolis here indulged in a gesture which betokened excessive scorn of the beauty and accomplishments of the ladies of Olympus.

“You have never seen these people, Hippopopolis?” I asked.