There must be a mystery, these two exclaim to one another in privacy.
Delphica draws Mr. Semhians aside.

Blushing over his white necktie, like the coast of Labrador at the
transient wink of its Jack-in-the-box Apollo, Mr. Semhians faintly tells
of a conversation he has had with the ingenuous fair one; and she ardent
as he for the throning of our incomparable Saxon English in the mouths of
the races of mankind. Strange!--she partly suspects the Frenchman, the
Russian, the attentive silent Greek, to be all of them bound for the
Court of Japan. Concurrents? Can it be? We are absolutely to enter on
a contention with rivals? Dr. Bouthoin speaks to Dr. Gannius. He is
astonished, he says; he could not have imagined it

'Have you ever imagined anything?' Dr. Gannius asks him. Entomologist,
botanist, palaeontologist, philologist, and at sound of horn a ready
regimental corporal, Dr. Gannius wears good manners as a pair of bath-
slippers, to rally and kick his old infant of an Englishman; who, in awe
of his later renown and manifest might, makes it a point of discretion to
be ultra-amiable; for he certainly is not in training, he has no
alliances, and he must diplomatize; and the German is a strong one; a
relative too; he is the Saxon's cousin, to say the least. This German
has the habit of pushing past politeness to carry his argumentative war
into the enemy's country: and he presents on all sides a solid rampart
of recent great deeds done, and mailed readiness for the doing of more,
if we think of assailing him in that way. We are really like the poor
beasts which have cast their shells or cases, helpless flesh to his beak.
So we are cousinly.

Whether more amused than amazed, we know not, Dr. Gannius hears from 'our
simpleton of the pastures,' as he calls the Rev. Doctor to his daughter,