"I know what it is," I said, not by any stroke of genius, but through my brother's workshop; "it is all of it type, of some queer sort, but what the metal is I have not the least idea." "Type it is, as you perceive. But to what language it belongs, I doubt whether even the British Museum could tell you. For the very simple reason that nothing has been printed in that language yet. It is type of the Lesghian alphabet, the first that has ever been cut, or cast, or in any other manner fashioned. Our language is a very fine one, infinitely the finest of all the forms of speech in the long tract of mountains. But nothing in it has been printed yet. We are obliged to have recourse to Arabic, if we desire to publish anything. And not only that, but the children even of our noblest families have not the least idea--Officer, I see that you are pressed for time; but if you had leisure to see me work this press, not with those castings, but the larger form, the capitals in fact, the coarse capitals, which we turned out first,--for we had to feel our way,--I am almost sure that you would agree with me--" "I am sure that I should, sir. No doubt about that. I never saw anything so beautiful in my life. But we have exceeded our time, Sir Imar. Thank you--well, I will taste a toss of that liqueur. Upon my word, you know the right thing all round! Sir Imar, your best health! Trappistine is not a patch on it. Beg pardon, Sir Imar, for having hit your gate so hard. I am not quite a literary man myself, but am able to allow for all in that way situated. Good-bye, Sir Imar, and if any one encroaches upon the freedom of the Press, for the folk about here are not like us, just one line to Scotland Yard--a cigar, sir? Yes, it will enable me to think. And I shall take that young fellow's horse back to the station." Sûr Imar sat down, while I went to see them off; and outside the upper door they gave three cheers. "Wonderful old chap! Grand old cock!" the officer said to me as I offered him a light; "English Aristocracy not a patch upon him for cooking a dinner or for languages. But as mad as a March hare; what a pity! Don't he know what is good, though? Mr. Cranleigh, attend to me. A man who can do French things to satisfy an Englishman--that's what I call international, and no mistake!" CHAPTER XVII PEPPERCORNS