Dr.Gannius holds a trump card in his artless daughter, conjecturally, for the establishment of the language of the gutturals in the far East.

He has now a suspicion, that the inventive M.
Falarique, melted down to sobriety by misfortune, may some day startle their camp by the cast of more than a crow into it, and he is bent on establishing alliances; frightens the supple Signor Jeridomani to lingual fixity; eulogizes Football, with Dr.Bouthoin; and retracts, or modifies, his dictum upon the English, that, 'masculine brawn they have in their bodies, but muscle they have not in their feminine minds'; to exalt them, for a signally clean, if a dense, people: 'Amousia, not Alousia, is their enemy:'-- How, when we have the noblest crop of poets?
'You have never heartily embraced those aliens among you until you learnt from us, that you might brag of them.'-- Have they not endowed us with the richest of languages?
'The words of which are used by you, as old slippers, for puns.' Mr.Semhians has been superciliously and ineffectively punning in foreign presences: he and his chief are inwardly shocked by a new perception; What if, now that we have the populace for paymaster, subservience to the literary tastes of the populace should reduce the nation to its lowest mental level, and render us not only unable to compete with the foreigner, but unintelligible to him, although so proudly paid at home! Is it not thus that nations are seen of the Highest to be devouring themselves?
'For,' says Dr.Gannius, as if divining them, 'this excessive and applauded productiveness, both of your juvenile and your senile, in your modern literature, is it ever a crop?
Is it even the restorative perishable stuff of the markets?
Is it not rather your street-pavement's patter of raindrops, incessantly in motion, and as fruitful ?' Mr.
Semhians appeals to Delphica.

'Genius you have,' says she, stiffening his neck-band, 'genius in superabundance':--he throttles to the complexion of the peony:--'perhaps criticism is wanting.' Dr.Gannius adds: 'Perhaps it is the drill-sergeant everywhere wanting for an unrivalled splendid rabble!' Colney left the whole body of concurrents on the raised flooring of a famous New York Hall, clearly entrapped, and incited to debate before an enormous audience, as to the merits of their respective languages.
'I hear,' says Dr.Bouthoin to Mr.Semhians (whose gape is daily extending), 'that the tickets cost ten dollars!' There was not enough of Delphicafor Nests.
Colney asked: 'Have you seen any of our band ?' 'No,' she said, with good cheer, and became thoughtful, conscious of a funny reason for the wish to hear of the fictitious creature disliked by Dudley.

A funny and a naughty reason, was it?
Not so very naughty: but it was funny; for it was a spirit of opposition to Dudley, without an inferior feeling at all, such as girls should have.
Colney brought his viola for a duet; they had a pleasant musical evening, as in old days at Creckholt; and Nesta, going upstairs with the ladies to bed, made them share her father's amused view of the lamb of the flock this bitter gentleman became when he had the melodious instrument tucked under his chin.

He was a guest for the night.