In the afternoon Bräsig seated himself beside his friend Charles, and opening his book prepared to read aloud. If we were to look over his shoulder we should read on the title page: "The Frogs by Aristophanes, translated from Greek." We open our eyes wide with astonishment, but only think how much wider the old Greek humourist would have opened his, had he seen to what heights education had advanced in Rahnstädt, had he known that his frogs had taken their place, two thousand years after his death, in the same shelf of the Rahnstädt circulating library as "Blossoms," "Pearls," "Forget-me-nots," "Roses," and other annuals. How the old rascal would have laughed! Uncle Bräsig did not laugh, but sat there gravely and seriously. He had put on his horn spectacles, that looked for all the world like a pair of carriage lamps, and was holding the book as far away from him as the length of his arm would allow. When he began: "'The Frogs'--he means what we call 'puddocks,' Charles--'by Aristop-Hannes'--I read it 'Hannes,' Charles as I look upon 'Hanes' as a misprint, for there's a book called 'Schinder-Hannes'[2] that I once read, and if this is only half as horrible, we may be well satisfied, Charles." He now began to read after school-master Strull's, fashion, only stopping for breath, and Hawermann sat still seeming to listen attentively, but before the first page was finished he was buried in his own thoughts again, and when Bräsig wet his finger to turn the fourth page, he discovered to his righteous indignation that his old friend's eyes were closed. Bräsig rose, placed himself in front of him and stared at him. Now it is a well known fact that the miller wakes when the mill stops working, and that the hearers wake when the sermon is done. So it was with Hawermann, he opened his eyes, pulled at his pipe, and said: "Beautiful, Zachariah, most beautiful."--"What? you say 'beautiful' and yet you were asleep!"--"Don't be angry with me," said Hawermann, who was now thoroughly awake, "but I couldn't understand a single word of it. Put the book away, or do you understand it?"--"Not so well as usual, Charles, but I paid a penny for the hire of it, and when I pay a penny I like to have my money's worth."--"But if you can't understand it?"--"People don't read in order to understand, Charles, they read _poor passer lour temps_. Look," and he tried to explain what he had read, but was interrupted by a knock at the door, which was followed by the entrance of Moses.