‘Have you ever imagined anything?’ Dr. Gannius asks him.  Entomologist, botanist, palaeontologist, philologist, and at sound of horn a ready regimental corporal, Dr. Gannius wears good manners as a pair of bath-slippers, to rally and kick his old infant of an Englishman; who, in awe of his later renown and manifest might, makes it a point of discretion to be ultra-amiable; for he certainly is not in training, he has no alliances, and he must diplomatize; and the German is a strong one; a relative too; he is the Saxon’s cousin, to say the least.  This German has the habit of pushing past politeness to carry his argumentative war into the enemy’s country:  and he presents on all sides a solid rampart of recent great deeds done, and mailed readiness for the doing of more, if we think of assailing him in that way.  We are really like the poor beasts which have cast their shells or cases, helpless flesh to his beak.  So we are cousinly.

Whether more amused than amazed, we know not, Dr. Gannius hears from ’our simpleton of the pastures,’ as he calls the Rev. Doctor to his daughter, that he and Mr. Semhians have absolutely pushed forth upon this most mighty of enterprises naked of any backing from their Government!  Babes in the Wood that they are! ‘a la grace de dieu’ at every turn that cries for astutia, they show no sign or symbol of English arms behind them, to support—­and with the grandest of national prizes in view!—­the pleading oration before the Court of the elect, erudites, we will call them, of an intelligent, yet half barbarous, people; hesitating, these, between eloquence and rival eloquence, cunning and rival cunning.  Why, in such a case, the shadow-nimbus of Force is needed to decide the sinking of the scale.  But have these English never read their Shakespeare, that they show so barren an acquaintance with human, to say nothing of semi-barbaric, nature?  But it is here that we Germans prove our claim to being the sons of his mind.—­Dr. Gannius, in contempt, throws off the mask:  he also is a concurrent.  And not only is he the chosen by election of the chief Universities of his land, he has behind him, as Athene dilating Achilles, the clenched fist of the Prince of thunder and lightning of his time.  German, Japan shall be! he publicly swears before them all.  M. Falarique damascenes his sharpest smile; M. Bobinikine double-dimples his puddingest; M. Mytharete rolls a forefinger over his beak; Dr. Bouthoin enlarges his eye on a sunny mote.  And such is the masterful effect of a frank diplomacy, that when one party shows his hand, the others find the reverse of concealment in hiding their own.