language, as it passed
through the heated brain of Syme.

"We must have several word-signs," said Syme seriously--"words that
we are likely to want, fine shades of meaning. My favourite word is
'coeval'. What's yours?"

"Do stop playing the goat," said the Professor plaintively. "You don't
know how serious this is."

"'Lush' too," said Syme, shaking his head sagaciously, "we must have
'lush'--word applied to grass, don't you know?"

"Do you imagine," asked the Professor furiously, "that we are going to
talk to Dr. Bull about grass?"

"There are several ways in which the subject could be approached," said
Syme reflectively, "and the word introduced without appearing forced.
We might say, 'Dr. Bull, as a revolutionist, you remember that a tyrant
once advised us to eat grass; and indeed many of us, looking on the
fresh lush grass of summer...'"

"Do you understand," said the other, "that this is a tragedy?"

"Perfectly," replied Syme; "always be comic in a tragedy. What the deuce
else can you do? I wish this language of yours had a wider scope. I
suppose we could not extend it from the fingers to the toes? That would
involve pulling off our boots and socks during the conversation, which
however unobtrusively performed--"

"Syme," said his friend with a stern simplicity, "go to bed!"

Syme, however, sat up in bed for a considerable time mastering the new
code. He was awakened next morning while the east was still sealed with
darkness, and found his grey-bearded ally standing like a ghost beside
his bed.

Syme sat up in bed blinking; then slowly collected his thoughts, threw
off the bed-clothes, and stood up. It seemed to him in some curious way
that all the safety and sociability of the night before fell with the
bedclothes off him, and he stood up in an air of cold danger. He still
felt an entire trust and loyalty towards his companion; but it was the
trust between two men going to the scaffold.

"Well," said Syme with a forced cheerfulness as he pulled on his
trousers, "I dreamt of that alphabet of yours. Did it take you long to
make it up?"

The Professor made no answer, but gazed in front of him with eyes the
colour of a wintry sea; so Syme repeated his question.

"I say, did it take you long to invent all this? I'm considered good at
these things, and it was a good hour's grind. Did you learn it all on
the spot?"

The Professor was silent; his eyes were wide open, and he wore a fixed
but very small s