"It's a glorious exercise, suh," said the professor to me, in the private cabin.
"In moderation, yes," I answered.
"May I inquiuh to what you-all are referrin'?" he asked haughtily.
"Why, to this," I answered, tapping my glass.
The professor grew more stiff. "I referred to simplifyin' the spellin' of our language," he said.
"A glorious exercise?" I repeated vaguely.
"Fo' the imagination, suh. Turn yore eye whah you will, you'll see words that need refawmin', words that need our help, words that cry an' clamuh to be relieved of the stigma of their congested and nonsensical appearance; nouns, adjectives, verbs, all stuck in the hopeless mud of antiquity, an' holdin' out their hands for we-all to drag 'em out an' bring 'em up to date." He now gave me a list. "Look, suh, at those pore, sufferin', aged cripples, awaitin' the renewal of their youth."
"You have a magnificent collection," I remarked to him, after a glance at the list.