"I admit, sir," I responded, "that our spelling is but a rag-bag of lawlessness. But it has been ratified by a noble army of great writers. They and the daily press have spread it over the world. Therefore we must go slowly. We must do it right. Derivation----" "Bless yore heart, suh," the impetuous youth interrupted me, "what's derivation? Just conquest follo'd by mispronunciation. Julius Caesuh he lambastes Gaul; and he talks Latin to 'em; he says '_honor_,' an' he goes home; an' the Gauls retain Caesuh's _i_dea, as all puffeck gennlemen should, but the nearest they kin git to the Latin is '_honneur_.' An' then, whoop they come over to England, an' they lambaste the Anglo-Saxons, an' talk to 'em about '_honneur_.' An' the Anglo-Saxons, bein' also puffeck gennlemen, they ketches on to the _i_dea, but be-Jeroosalemmed if they kin say it straight, either; an' so it gits to be '_honour_.' An' then comes our glorious Revolution; an' we tell the English, 'Good-by to yo', King Geawge. Good-by to yore iniquitous parliament. Good-by to yore whole dog-goned outfit of tyrants and helots. We-all don' keer how you-all spell anything whatsoever, an' the language of Washington, an' Jeffuhson, an' Patrick Henry, an' all the glorious fathuhs of libuhty, is goin' to spell it _honor_ without a u.' An' there you are, back to yore original Latin." "A noble sentiment, Professor," said Kibosh. "A truly noble sentiment. Will you not join me in a chickle?" The professor bounded to his full, long height, with all the agility of the _felis catus_ of his own wild, native mountains. "I'm with you, suh!" he exclaimed. "Be-Jeroosalemmed if I wasn't pow'ful thirsty." "Chickle is not liquid refreshment," said Kibosh, mildly; and he held out the box to his tall guest. [Illustration: "Chickle is not liquid refreshment."] The professor glared at it for a moment. "You and yore chickle," he then began, with alarming deliberation, "can go right----" A quick, girlish cough sounded behind him. "----to my private cabin in this cyah," the professor continued, with no change in countenance or voice, "where I will join you, and where we will find liquid refreshment." Kibosh did not dare refuse him, and I came without being asked. "It's a glorious exercise, suh," said the professor to me, in the private cabin. "In moderation, yes," I answered. "May I inquiuh to what you-all are referrin'?" he asked haughtily. "Why, to this," I answered, tapping my glass. The professor grew more stiff. "I referred to simplifyin' the spellin' of our language," he said. "A glorious exercise?" I repeated vaguely.