To my eye, one page seemed like another, a bewildering repetition of these same little dots and strokes.
I looked up at King Gâ-roo and Poly-dotto. They were both much amused over my confusion.
Like a flash the truth burst upon me. It seemed to me like waking from a dream.
Yes, there was no doubt of it. I was that moment in the land of the original short-hand writers. Here had arisen that mysterious system of recording language by means of dots and strokes, of which so many men, in so many different countries, in different centuries, had claimed to be the inventors.
In my readings of ancient peoples I had often seen it darkly hinted at, that far, far back in remote ages there existed a race of beings, with short arms and tiny hands, who had invented a written language to suit their wants, in which absolutely no letters at all were used, the words being represented by dots and strokes placed at different heights to denote different sounds.
With a sort of breathless delight I now sat down and began to examine the book anew, pausing every now and then to repeat a few words of thanks to the King of the Umi-Lobas.
“Inform little man all head, most learned Poly-dotto,” cried the King, “how many volumes he holds in his hand.”
Poly-dotto caressed the white tufts hanging from his ears, and spake as follows:
“The royal library which thou holdest in thy hand, contains eight thousand volumes all rare and valuable, and only to be found in the library of our royal master. These volumes treat of astrology, alchemy, divination, cheirosophy, medicine, mathematics, law, politics, philosophy, pastimes, warfare, fifty volumes of poetry, fifty of history, fifty of wonder-stories, besides several hundred treatises on theosophy, altruism, positivism, hypnotism, mind-reading, transmigration of souls, art of flying, embalming etc., etc.!”
“O, wonderful! Most wonderful!” was my ejaculation.