He now had a fortune of five thousand marks; three thousand from the Bridge Farmer and two thousand from the special offering. With this capital he migrated to Switzerland and became a pastor in the Canton of Graubünden. In those parts the people speak German as well as in Eynhofen, and they roast chickens and ducks on the spit, but no missionaries. There Fottner spent his days in peace and contentment, and soon weighed two hundred and fifty, not a pound less. For the Bridge Farmer, who would have liked to see Matt as a saint, this was a disappointment. And for the Hindians too. For they will never again enjoy the prospect of having a corporal of the Bavarian Royal Grenadiers come out to them as a missionary. RUDOLF HANS BARTSCH * * * * * * THE STYRIAN WINE-CARTER TRANSLATED BY BAYARD QUINCY MORGAN, PH.D. Assistant Professor of German, University of Wisconsin Aye, any one not familiar with the Styrian-Carinthian highway through the valley of the Drau does not know what one of the good old Austrian imperial highroads in the good old days might undertake. Hop-up-and-down is its behavior, with snake-like humps, like a jumping polecat. Serpentine windings? Don't exist there. Straight as an arrow it heedlessly goes over mountain after mountain, down to the Drau and up again to airy heights, and any motorist who is slightly in a hurry will make a miniature descent into hell of some 250 feet, say beyond Völkermarkt, approaching Lavamünd; the terrified shriek of the ladies is already resounding at the bottom, but their stomachs would still be on top of Völkermarkt Hill, obeying the law of inertia, if they could have passed up through their mouths. And then immediately after, whee! up a fresh "mountain." This is the way we treat the good old times nowadays. Was not that road, in its day, built to lengthen life? There you could ponder over your existence, for your little horses, like peripatetic philosophers, pushed onward with bobbing heads, laboriously and slowly, slowly.