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None of the party rose until very late, and then over the breakfast-table they discussed the manuscript once more, each from his own point of view, Melick still asserting a contemptuous scepticism Oxenden and the doctor giving reasons for their faith, and Featherstone listening without saying much on either side.

Congreve, a middle-aged man, with iron-gray hair, short beard and mustache, short nose, gray eyes, with spectacles, and stoutish body. Next came Noel Oxenden, late of Trinity College, Cambridge, a college friend of Featherstone's a tall man, with a refined and intellectual face and reserved manner.

It must have been a strong temptation." "More," said Oxenden, with deep impressiveness, "was a simple-minded though somewhat emotional sailor, and merely wrote in the hope that his story might one day meet the eyes of his father.

Take the word 'father. In Latin, as also in Greek, it is 'pater. Now the Latin 'p' in English becomes 'f; that is, the thin mute becomes the aspirated mute. The doctor gave a heavy sigh. "You're out of my depth, Oxenden," said he. "I'm nothing of a philologist." "By Jove!" said Featherstone, "I like this. This is equal to your list of the plants of the Coal Period, doctor.

"By Jove!" cried Featherstone, as he read the above, "this is really getting to be something tremendous." "This other package must be the manuscript," said Oxenden, "and it'll tell all about it." "Such a manuscript'll be better than meat," said the doctor, sententiously. Melick said nothing, but, opening his knife, he cut the cords and unfolded the wrapper.

"The thing that struck me most," said Oxenden, "in all that has been read thus far, is the flatness of the South Pole, and the peculiar effect which this produces on the landscape." "I must say," added Melick, "that the writer has got hold of a very good idea there, and has taken care to put it forward in a very prominent fashion."

With this he attacked the copper cylinder, and by means of a few dexterous blows succeeded in cutting it open. Then he looked in. "What do you see?" asked Featherstone. "Something," said Melick, "but I can't quite make it out." "If you can't make it out, then shake it out," said Oxenden.

"The languages of the Aryan family," said Oxenden, "have the same general characteristics, and in all of them the differences that exist in their most common words are subject to the action of a regular law. The action of the law is best seen in the changes which take place in the mutes.

"There are the eyeless fishes of the great cave of Kentucky," said Oxenden, "whose eyes have become extinct from living in the dark." "No," cried the doctor; "the fish that have arisen in that lake have never needed eyes, and have never had them." Oxenden laughed.

"Paper boats," said Melick, in a business-like tone. "Paper boats! By Jove!" said Featherstone. "What for?" "I'm going to have a regatta," said Melick. "Anything to kill time, you know." "By Jove!" exclaimed Featherstone again, raising himself higher in his hammock, "that's not a bad idea. A wegatta! By Jove! glowious! glowious! I say, Oxenden, did you hear that?"