One of Our Conquerors - World eBook Library

One of Our Conquerors
tively 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. Dressing in the
early hour, Nests saw him from her window on the parade,
and soon joined him, to hear him at his bitterest, in the flush
of the brine. ‘These lengths of blank-faced terraces fronting
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