A Strange Manuscript Found in a Copper Cylinder James De Mille

63
I was always rather quick at learning languages. I had a correct ear
and a retentive memory; in my wanderings round the world I had picked
up a smattering of many languages, such as French, Italian, Spanish,
Arabic, German, Hindoostanee, and a few others. The words which I
learned from Almah had a remote resemblance to Arabic; and, in fact,
my knowledge of Arabic was actually of some assistance, though how it
was that these people should have a language with that resemblance
was certainly a mystery, and I did not try to solve it. The beautiful
Almah soon grew immensely interested in my efforts to learn, and also
in the English words which I gave when I pointed to any object.
Thus I pointed to myself, and said "Man," then pointing to her, I
said, "Woman." She laughed, and pointing to me said "Iz," and pointing
to herself said, "Izza." Then I pointed to the row of lights, and
said "Light;" she did the same, and said, "Or." Then her face grew
mournful, and she pointed to me, saying "Atam-or." It struck me then
that there was some chance resemblance between "or," the word meaning
"light," and one of the syllables of my name as she pronounced it, and
that this might cause her sadness; but as I could make out nothing of
this, I dismissed the thought, and went on with my questions. This
took up the time, until at length someone appeared who looked like a
servant. He said something, whereupon Almah arose and beckoned to me
to follow. I did so, and we went to a neighboring apartment, where
there was spread a bounteous repast. Here we sat and ate, and Almah
told me the names of all the dishes. After dinner we returned to the
room.
It was a singular and a delightful position. I was left alone with the
beautiful Almah, who herself showed the utmost graciousness and the
kindest interest in me. I could not understand it, nor did I try to;
it was enough that I had such a happy lot. For hours we thus were
together, and I learned many words. To insure remembrance, I wrote
them down in my memorandum-book with a pencil and both of these were
regarded by Almah with greatest curiosity. She felt the paper,
inspected it, touched it with her tongue, and seemed to admire it
greatly; but the pencil excited still greater admiration. I signed to
her to write in the book. She did so, but the characters were quite
unlike anything that I had ever seen. They were not joined like our
writing and like Arabic letters, but were separate like our printed
type, and were formed in an irregular manner. She then showed me a
book made of a strange substance. It was filled with characters like