, as he glanced about, "your goods look shelf-worn."

"Shelf-worn you say? And why not? I have rare antiques here. See, here
is the Golden Fleece and there is the Philosopher's Stone. That box in
the corner is the Hope Chest of Venus. And there in the window is the
Fountain of Youth. That puzzle beside it is the Riddle of the Universe.
And this vial here contains the Evil Eye preserved in spirits of mocking
wine."

"All very fine antiques," agreed Gud, "but in this age a merchant must
keep up-to-date; you need new goods on your shelves."

"And new goods, I have had in time and again," declared the prophet.
"But they have stolen them from me. Did I not once make good money
auguring from the entrails of animals, till these scientists found that
they were useful for sausage casings? And when the stars paled in
popularity because the scientists turned their spy-tubes upon them, did
I not sit over a wall of gas and make myself drunk with its stinking
fumes, while my wife sold my insane babblings for wisdom, until those
scientists stole the gas and ran it through pipes to the houses to make
fuel for pots to boil? And did not I read the cracks in fools' palms,
until the scientists made fingerprints to identify criminals, and then
the people durst not give me their hands to read lest I be a spy in the
employ of the state searching out their crimes? And did I not call
messages out of the air from distant lands, until the scientists trained
the lightning to bring messages and harnessed it to vehicles so that the
people could go and see for themselves that the lightning had not lied?"

"Did you ever try interpreting dreams?" asked Gud.

"Bah!" said the prophet. "That was the idea with which I began business
when this world was young. But they have spoiled that also and taught
the people that dreams were merely neurotic emanations of a bad bellyful
of beef and beans. I tell you, my friend, they have left me nothing,
nothing of mystery and magic to sell the people; and here I am, a
prophet, wise in all the ways of prophecy, and sitting in an empty shop
full of musty bones!"

Taking leave of this disgruntled prophet, Gud strolled through the
Market of Knowledge to see for himself how it was that these scientists
had ruined the honorable business of prophecy. And Gud saw many wonders
and much business going on. In one stall he saw a chemist with tubes and
retorts brewing pretty smells to scent ill-favored women. In another he
sa