I imagine that what happened in the Irish Sea was this: a Manx fisherman held up a fish, and shouted the Manx name for it--which, I think, resembles the Welsh “pysgodyn”; whereupon a Welshman held up a whisky bottle, and shouted “Iechyd da chwi” (good health); and they parted with mutual satisfaction. Yet, if there is any truth in the novels of Scott and Lever, the Gaels and Erse should have preferred some such word as “slaint” for “health”; the bottle is pan-anthropic. About 1904 some local enthusiasts attempted to introduce the study of the Manx language as a part of the island school course. It was manifest after careful enquiry that the language had no literary value, for there is no Manx literature beyond some fairy stories and folk songs. Nor has it a commercial value, for obvious reasons. It has an antiquarian value; but between 9 A.M. and 4.30 P.M. the time is already fully occupied, and the rates and taxes will hardly bear the additional strain of sentiment. The Board in Whitehall are very unwilling to interfere with Manx local option in education, for the island pays all the school grants, and he who pays the piper may call the song. Whitehall confined itself to the sprinkling of cold water on the scheme. I heard no more of it. It is strange that in our crankful England no crank has arisen to demand the teaching of Old English (which we used to call Anglo-Saxon), the language of our forefathers. Why do we not all feel it to be monstrous that the “Lay of Beowulf” is a sealed book to our six million children, and that the tongue of Ælfred should be unknown to the subjects of Edward VII.? The Manx language may not be a remunerative study, but the history of the island is full of interest, and the excellent patriotism of the Speaker of the House of Keys has provided the children with a school history, abbreviated from a larger work. I wish it were more generally used. Manx history is tangible; the monuments lie all round; Celts and Scandinavians have left traces everywhere. Saints and martyrs, such as were Patrick, German, Maughold, Bride; kings and warriors, King Orry and--and others; Stanleys and Murrays. Who would not be proud to be a Manxman? Who was King Orry? I have great gifts of forgetfulness when it comes to history instead of story, and I do not recollect the details of that monarch’s career. It is all in that book on the shelf. A Manx boy to whom I put the same question--Who was King Orry?--replied “a boot.” It was explained that he meant “boat” and that one of the Liverpool steamers is called after the king. That does not carry us any further: but I remember the story of Bishop Wilson, which a colleague told me as we came back from Castle Rushen, and (like an examination candidate) I offer the one in place of the other: