Jake looked up from his book. "Shhhhh! Tommy, this is a library, don't shout!"
Tommy came up to the carrel Jake was sitting at, holding up a red leather backpack. "Sorry Jake. I got your bag back."
"What are you talking about?"
"I was walking across campus to the dining hall, and I saw some other kid carrying your bag. So I went to get it back from him."
Jake looked at Tommy. His jacket was askew, his hair was mussed, and he had the beginnings of a bruise on his left cheek. "Let me guess, he didn't want to give it up, and there was a fight?"
"Yeah. I mean, first he ran, then I grabbed the bag, but he wouldn't let go. He punched me even, so I had to punch him a coupla times before he dropped it and ran. But I got your bag back for ya."
Jake looked at his books, and at his watch. "Thanks, Tommy. I've got some reading to do for class. Go head off to lunch and I'll catch up with you later."
After Tommy was gone, Jake opened the bag, looked in it, and pulled out a day-planner. Flipping through the address book, he found the number he was looking for. He then reached down under his carrel and picked up an identical backpack. Opening an outer pocket, he took out his cell phone.
"Hi, Is this Mark Franklin? I'm Jake Filmore. This is sort of an awkward call. I bet we are the only two people on this campus who own red backpacks from Garpin Brothers. I've now got two myself, due to my over-zealous roommate. Do you want yours back? I'm in the library, studying on the 3rd floor. I'll be here, with both our bags, all afternoon. I'm really sorry about this."
Right Reverend, my Humble Duty remembered, I pray that my letter reaches you in good health. I fear that the weight of the duty ye have given me has ∫trained my own health, cau∫ing my retirement to Middle∫ex. I grew ill and feveri∫h. It was only la∫t night that my illne∫s broke. I hope to be able to return to Oxford within the week to continue our work. I am plea∫ed to ∫ay that during my fever I had an in∫pired vi∫ion which has ∫ettled for me the matter ye laid upon my ∫houlders.
As I ∫lumbered in my fever, I perceived a ∫trange ∫ight of two common animals: a ∫quirrel dre∫∫ed in the clothes of a workman and a young coney dre∫∫ed as a bi∫hop, meeting over a game of che∫s. The ∫quirrel introduced him∫elf as "Squirrel", while the coney called him∫elf "Επίσκοπος κόνικλος".
Their game was played leisurely, as if their conver∫ation was more important than winning. The conver∫ation itself ∫truck me as odd, however. While Squirrel ∫poke perfectly common English, κόνικλος inter∫per∫ed Greek and Latin into his ∫peech. While I perfectly under∫tood what κόνικλος was ∫aying, I could ∫ee that Squirrel had trouble, for he was not as fluent in the cla∫∫ical tongues as I. Whenever Squirrel called Επίσκοπος κόνικλος "Bishop", Επίσκοπος κόνικλος corrected him, as he was no Bishop, he was an Επίσκοπος. Other words were constantly corrected by Επίσκοπος κόνικλος as well. Eventually, the game, and their conver∫ation, came to an end with Squirrel winning, but he was now utterly confu∫ed by the ∫peech of κόνικλος.
This vision ∫ettled my mind on the matter ye have given me. Our commi∫∫ion is to bring the Holy Word to the Engli∫h ma∫∫es, in the most accurate, under∫tandable manner po∫∫ible. I now believe that an Engli∫hman has more in common with Squirrel than with Επίσκοπος κόνικλος. To that end, I humbly ∫ugge∫t that we tran∫late in terms appropriate for Squirrel, and not for our fellow Επίσκοποι. In the particular ta∫k you ∫et for me, I conclude that we ∫hould adopt as the tran∫lation of the title of the book by Saint John of Patmos the Engli∫h title of "The Revelation", rather than the original Greek title of "Αποκάλυψη" or "The Apocalyp∫e". A ∫imilar con∫ideration would ∫ugge∫t retitling the books of the Septuagent to "The Beginning", "The E∫cape", "Laws for Prie∫ts", "More Laws", and "Numbers", but that is a matter for the First Committee of Westminster.
Thus I commit you to God's good protection.
From Fulham Palace the 9th of December, 1607. Your very a∫∫ured friend and colleague,