yaller; I think it was moore of a blue like."

"A blue smell. We all know a blue smell when we see it."

Of course, I need not say the laughter was going on in peals, much to
Platt's delight. Tindal was simply in an ecstasy, but did all he could
to suppress his enjoyment of the scene.

Then Platt resumed,--

"You think it was more of a blue smell like? Now, let me ask you,
there are many kinds of blue smells, from the smell of a Blue Peter,
which is salt, to that of the sky, which depends upon the weather. Was
it dark, or--"

"A kind of sky-blue, sir."

"More like your scarf?"

Up went Hodge's hand to see if he could feel the colour.

"Yes," said he, "that's more like--"

"Zummut like your scarf?"

"Yes, sir."

Then he was asked as to a variety of solids and liquids; and the man
shook his head, intimating that he could go a deuce of a way, but that
there were bounds even to human knowledge.