An Account of the Abipones, an Equestrian People of Paraguay, (2 of 3)

The multitude and variety of tongues spoken in Paraguay alone, exceeds alike belief and calculation. Nor should you imagine that they vary only in dialect. Most of them are radically different. Truly admirable is their varied structure, of which no rational person can suppose these stupid savages to have been the architects and inventors. Led by this consideration, I have often affirmed that the variety and artful construction of languages should be reckoned amongst the other arguments to prove the existence of an eternal and omniscient God. The Jesuits have given religious instructions to fourteen nations of Paraguay, and widely propagated the Christian faith, in fourteen different languages. They did not each understand them all, but every one was well acquainted with two or three, namely, those of the nations amongst whom they had lived. Of the number of these was I, who spent seven years amongst the Abipones, eleven amongst the Guaranies. The nations for whom we laboured, and for whom founded colonies, were the Guaranies, Chiquitos, Mocobios, Abipones, Tobas, Malbalaes, Vilelas, Passaines, Lules, Isistines, Homoampas, Chunipies, Mataguayos, Chiriguanes, Lenguas or Guaycurùs, Mbayas, Pampas, Serranos, Patagones, and Yaròs. Moreover, the Guichua language, which is peculiar to the whole of Peru, and very familiar to Negro slaves, to the lower orders amongst the Spaniards, and even to matrons of the higher ranks in Tucuman, was used by many of the Jesuits, both in preaching and confession. Different languages were spoken too in the towns of the Chiquitos, which were composed of very different nations. The languages of the Abipones, Mocobios, and Tobas, certainly have all one origin, and are as much alike as Spanish and Portugueze. Yet they differ not only in dialect, but also in innumerable little words. The same may be said of the Tonocotè language, in use amongst the Lules and Isistines. The language of the Chiriguanes and Guaranies, who live full five hundred leagues apart, is the same, with the exception of a few words, which may be easily learnt in the course of two or three weeks by any one who understands either of them.

Many writers upon America have interspersed sentences of the Indian languages into their histories; but, good Heavens! how utterly defective and corrupted! They have scarce left a letter unmutilated. But these writers are excusable, for they have drawn their information from corrupted sources. Without having even entered America, they insert into their journals the words of savage languages, the meaning and pronunciation of which they are totally ignorant of. Hence it is that the American names of places, rivers, trees, plants, and animals, are so wretchedly mutilated in all books, that we can hardly read them without laughter. Spanish children, by constantly conversing with Indians of their own age, imbibe a correct knowledge of the Indian languages, which, to grown-up persons, is a business both of time and labour. I have known adults who, after conversing many years with the Indians, uttered as many errors as syllables. It is difficult for a European to accustom his tongue to the strange and distorted words which the savages pronounce so fast and indistinctly, hissing with their tongues, snoring with their nostrils, grinding with their teeth, and gurgling with their throats; so that you seem to hear the sound of ducks quacking in a pond, rather than the voices of men talking. Learned men had long wished that a person who understood some American language would clearly expound the system, construction, and whole anatomy of it: and it is to comply with the desire of these persons that I am going to treat compendiously of the Abiponian language.

Most of the Americans want some letter which we Europeans use, and use some which we want. A letter of very frequent occurrence amongst the Abipones, but which we Europeans are unacquainted with, is one which has the mixed sound of R and G. To pronounce it properly, the tongue must be slided a little along the roof of the mouth, and brought towards the throat, in the manner of those persons who have a natural incapacity of pronouncing the letter R. To signify this peculiar letter of the Abipones, we have written R or G indiscriminately, but distinguished by a certain mark, thus: Laetar̂at, a son: Achibir̂aik, salt. The plural number changes R into K, thus: Laetkáte, sons. Europeans find much difficulty in pronouncing this letter, especially if it recur several times in the same word, as in Rar̂egr̂anr̂aik, a Vilela Indian. Rellar̂anr̂aǹ potròl, he hunts wild horses. Lapr̂ir̂atr̂aik, many-coloured. The Abipones can distinguish an European, however well-skilled in every other part of their language, by the pronunciation of this letter.

The Abipones use the ö, which the Paraguayrians write ë with two dots, like the French, Hungarians, and Germans: as Ahëpegak, a horse, Yahëc, my face. They make frequent use of the Greek K. They pronounce N like the Spaniards, as if the letter I was added to it: thus, Español must be pronounced Espaniol. The Abipones say Menetañi, it is within; Yoamcachiñi, the inner part is good. The legitimate pronunciation of this and other letters can only be learned vivâ voce.

Great attention must be paid to all the different accents and points, for the omission of a point, or the variation of an accent, gives a word a totally different meaning, thus: Heét, I fly; Hëët, I speak; Háten, I despise; Hateń, I hit the mark. This language abounds in very long words, consisting of ten, twenty, or more letters. The accents repeated in the same word show where the voice should be raised and where lowered: for the speech of this nation is very much modulated, and resembles singing. The accents alone are scarce sufficient to teach the pronunciation. It would not be amiss to subjoin musical notes to each of the syllables, unless a master supersedes the necessity of this artifice by teaching it vivâ voce. It may be as well to give some examples of accents. Hamihégemkiń, Debáyakaikin, Raregr̂ágremar̂achiń, Oahérkaikiń. These are names of Abipones. Grcáuagyégarigé, pity me. Oaháyegalgè, free me. Hapagrañütapagetá, you teach one another. Ñicauagrañíapegar̂algé, I intercede for thee. Hemokáchiñütápegioà, thou praisest me. Here are words of twenty letters. You will not find many monosyllables. The tall Abipones like words which resemble themselves in length.

They have a masculine and a feminine gender, but no neuter. A knowledge of the genders is to be gained by use alone. Grahaulái, the sun, is feminine with them, like the German Die Sonne. Grauèk, the moon, is masculine, as our Der Monde. Some adjectives are of both genders, as Naà, which is evil, both masculine and feminine. Neeù, good, of both genders. In others every gender has its own termination, as Ariaik, good, noble, mas. Ariayè, good, noble, fem. Cachiergaik, an old man; Cachergayè, an old woman.

The nouns have no cases. A letter prefixed to the noun sometimes indicates the case: as, Ay`m, I; M`ay`m, to me; Akami, thou; M'akami, to thee.

The formation of the plural number of nouns is very difficult to beginners; for it is so various that hardly any rule can be set down. I give you some examples:

From these few examples it appears that nouns ending in the same letter have different plurals. Moreover, as the Greeks, beside a plural number, have also a dual by which they express two things, so the Abipones have two plurals, of which the one signifies more than one, the other many: thus Joalé, a man. Joaleè, or Joaleèna, some men. Joalíripì, many men. Ahëpegak, a horse. Ahëpega, some horses. Ahëpegeripì, many horses.

I wonder that the Abipones have not two words for the first person plural, we, like many other American nations. The Guaranies express it in two ways: they sometimes say, ñandè, sometimes ore. The first they call the inclusive, the second the exclusive. In their prayers, addressing God, they say, We sinners, ore angaypabiyà; because God is excluded from the number of sinners. Speaking with men, they say, ñandè angaypabiyà, because those whom they address are sinners likewise, and they accordingly use the inclusive ñandè.

As they have no possessive pronouns, mine, thine, his, the want of them is supplied in every noun, by the addition or alteration of various letters. Amongst the Abipones a great difficulty is occasioned by the various changes of the letters, especially in the second person. Take these examples. Netà, a father indeterminately. Yità, my father. Gretaỳ, thine. Letà, his. Gretà, our father. Gretayi, yours. Letai, theirs.

Naetar̃at, a son, without expressing whose. Yaetr̃at, my son. Graetr̃achi, thy son. Laetr̃at, his son.

Nepèp, a maternal grandfather. Yepèp, mine. Grepepè, thine. Lepèp, his.

Naàl, a grandson. Yaàl, mine. Graalí, thine. Laàl, his.

Nenàk, a younger brother. Yenàk, mine. Grenarè, thine. Lenàk, his.

Nakirèk, a cousin german. Ñakirèk, mine. Gnakiregi, thine. Nakirek, his.

Noheletè, the point of a spear. Yoheletè, mine. Grohelichi, thine. Loheletè, his.

Natatr̃a, life. Yatatr̃a, my life. Gratatr̃e, thine. Latatr̃a, his.

But these examples are sufficient to show the multiplied variety of the second person. Amongst the Guaranies too, the possessives are affixed to the nouns, but this occasions no difficulty, because the mutation is regular: thus, Tuba, a father. Cheruba, my father. Nderuba, thine. Tuba, his. Guba, theirs. Tay̆, a son. Cheray̆, mine. Nderay̆, thine. Tay̆, his. Guay̆, theirs. Che is prefixed to nouns for the first person, and Nde for the second, without variation. Likewise in the plural they say Ñande, or Oreruba, our father. Penduba, your father. Tuba, or Guba, their father. In all other substantives these particles supply the place of possessives.

The following observation must be made on the possessive nouns of the Abipones. If they see any thing whose owner they do not know, and wish to be made acquainted with, they enquire to whom it belongs in various ways. If the object in question be animate, (even though it only possess vegetable life,) as wheat, a horse, a dog, a captive, &c. they say Cahami ledà? whose property is this? to which the other will reply, Ylà, mine. Grelè, thine. Lelà, his. On the other hand, if the thing be inanimate, as a spear, a garment, food, &c. they say Kahamì kalàm, to whom does this belong, and the other will say, Ai`m, to me. Karami, to thee. Hala`m, to him. Kara`m, to us, &c.

The pronouns of the first and second persons are subject to no mutations, on account of place or situation. Thus, Aỳm, I. Akami, thou. Aka`m, we. Akamyì, you. If alone be added, they are altered in this manner: Aỳmátarà, I alone. Akamítarà, thou alone. Akàm àkalè, we alone.

But the pronoun of the third person, he, is varied, according to the situation of the person of whom you speak. For if the object of discourse

He alone is also expressed in various ways.

They form the comparative and superlative degrees, not as in other languages, by the addition of syllables, but in a different manner. An Abipon would express this sentence. The tiger is worse than the dog, thus: the dog is not bad though the tiger be bad. Nétegink chik naà, oágan nihirenak la naà: or thus, The dog is not bad as the tiger, Netegink chi chi naà ỳágàm nihirenak. When we should say, The tiger is worst, an Abipon would say, the tiger is bad above all things, Nihirenak lamerpëëáoge kenoáoge naà: or thus, The tiger is bad so that it has no equal in badness. Nihirenak chit keoá naà. Sometimes they express a superlative, or any other eminence, merely by raising the voice. Ariaik, according to the pronunciation, signifies either a thing simply good, or the very best. If it be uttered with the whole force of the breast, and with an elevated voice, ending in an acute sound, it denotes the superlative degree; if with a calm, low voice, the positive. They signify that they are much pleased with any thing, or that they approve it greatly, by uttering with a loud voice the words Là naà! before Ariaik, or Eúrenék. Now it is bad! It is beautiful, or excellent! Nehaol means night. If they exclaim in a sharp tone, Là nehaòl, they mean that it is midnight, or the dead of the night: if they pronounce it slowly and hesitatingly, they mean that it is the beginning of the night. When they see any one hit the mark with an arrow, knock down a tiger quickly, &c. and wish to express that he is eminently dexterous, they cry with a loud voice, La yáraigè, now he knows, which, with them, is the highest commendation.

They form diminutives, by adding avàlk, aole, or olek, to the last syllable of the word, thus: Ahëpegak, a horse. Ahëpegeravàlk, a little horse, Óénèk, a boy. Óénèkavàlk, a little boy. Haáye, a girl. Haayáole, a little girl. Paỳ, father, a word for priest, introduced into America by the Portugueze. Payolék, little father, which they used when they wished to express particular kindness towards us. When angry, they only used the word Paỳ. Kàëpak, wood. Kàëperáole, a little piece of wood, by which they designated the beads of the rosary. Lenechì, little, moderate. Lénechiólek, or Lenechiavàlk. They make very frequent use of diminutives, which, with them, indicate either tender affection or contempt: thus, Yóale, a man. Yoaleólek, a little man, a bit of a man. Often with them a diminutive is a stronger expression of love or praise than any superlative: thus, they call a stronger or handsomer horse than ordinary, Ahëpegeravàlk. The Spaniards too express a more particular liking for a thing, when they call it bonito, than when they simply call it bueno, good or pretty.

Most of the American nations are extremely deficient in words to express number. The Abipones can only express three numbers in proper words. Iñitára, one. Iñoaka, two. Iñoaka yekainì, three. They make up for the other numbers by various arts: thus, Geyenk ñatè, the fingers of an emu, which, as it has three in front and one turned back, are four, serves to express that number. Neènhalek, a beautiful skin spotted with five different colours, is used to signify the number five. If you interrogate an Abipon respecting the number of any thing, he will stick up his fingers, and say, leyer iri, so many. If it be of importance to convey an accurate idea of the number of the thing, he will display the fingers of both hands or feet, and if all these are not sufficient, show them over and over again till they equal the number required. Hence Hanámbegem, the fingers of one hand means five; Lanám rihegem, the fingers of both hands, ten; Lanam rihegem, cat gracherhaka anámichirihegèm, the fingers of both hands and both feet, twenty. They have also another method of making up for want of numbers. When they return from an excursion to hunt wild horses, or shoot tame ones, none of the Abipones will ask them how many horses have you brought home? but, how much space will the troop of horse which you have brought home occupy? to which they will reply, the horses placed in a row would fill the whole market-place, or they extend from this grove to the river's bank. With this reply, which gives them an idea of the quantity of horses, they remain satisfied, though uninformed of the exact number. Sometimes they take up a handful of sand or grass, and showing it to the interrogator, endeavour in this way to express an immense quantity. But when number is spoken of, take care you do not readily credit whatever the Abipones say. They are not ignorant of arithmetic, but averse to it. Their memory generally fails them. They cannot endure the tedious process of counting. Hence to rid themselves of questions on the subject, they show as many fingers as they like, sometimes deceived themselves, sometimes deceiving others. Often, if the number about which you ask exceeds three, an Abipon, to save himself the trouble of showing his fingers, will cry Pòp! many. Chic leyekalipì, innumerable. Sometimes, when ten soldiers are coming, the assembled people will exclaim, Yoaliripì latenk naúeretápek, a very great number of men are approaching.

But still greater is their want of numerals, which grammarians call ordinals, for they cannot count beyond first: Era námachìt, the first. So that the Ten Commandments are reckoned in this way: the first commandment, Era námachìt, but as they are unable to express second, third, fourth, in their language, instead of these numbers, they place before the commandments, and another, and another, &c. Cat laháua, cat laháua, &c. They have, however, words signifying first and last, Enàm cahèk, that which goes before, and Iñagehék, that which comes last.

They have only two distributive numerals: each Iñitarapè, and Iñóakatapè, which answers to the Latin, bini. Liñoaka yahat, means twice. Ekátarapek, and sometimes Haûe ken, once. This is the extent of the Abiponian arithmetic, and the whole of their scanty supply of numbers. Scarce richer are the Guarany Indians, who cannot go beyond the number four. They call One, Petey̆. Two, Mokoy̆. Three, Mbohapĭ. Four, Irundy̆. First, Iyipĭbae. Second, Imomokoyndaba. Third, Imombohapĭhaba. Fourth, Imoimrundy̆haba. ^[1]Singuli, Petey̆tey̆. Bini, Mokoy̆mokoy̆. Terni, Mbohápĭhapĭ. Quaterni, Irundy̆ rundy̆. Once, Petey̆ yebĭ. Twice, Mokoy̆ yebi, &c. The Guaranies, like the Abipones, when questioned respecting a thing exceeding four, immediately reply, Ndipapahabi, or Ndipapahai, innumerable. But as a knowledge of numbers is highly necessary in the uses of civilized life, and above all, in confession, the Guaranies were daily taught at church to count in the Spanish language, in the public explanation, or recitation of the catechism. On Sunday, the whole people used to count from one to a thousand, in the Spanish tongue, in the church. But it was all in vain. Generally speaking, we found the art of music, painting, and sculpture, easier learnt than numbers. They can all pronounce the numbers in Spanish, but are so easily and frequently confused in counting, that you must be very cautious how you credit what they say in this matter.

For the conjugation of verbs, no paradigm can be given; as the singular number of the present tense of the indicative mood differs in almost all words, and is more difficult to learn than the augments of the Greek verbs. The second person particularly takes new letters, not only in the beginning, but also in the middle, and the end, as will appear from the examples which I shall lay before you.

But these few are sufficient to show the infinite changes of almost all verbs. I refrain from giving more examples which I have in my head; for it is not my intention to teach you the Abiponian language, but to show you the strange construction of it, and to avoid fatiguing your ears with so many long savage words. From the little which I have written, you will collect that the inflexions and variations of the second person in particular can only be learnt by use, not by rules. The other tenses of the indicative mood, and indeed all the moods of every conjugation, give little trouble to learners, being formed simply by adding a few syllables, or particles, to the present of the indicative: for instance:—

You add the same particles to the second and third persons, without changing them in any other respect: thus—

For the syllable am is what distinguishes the present from the future.

The imperative mood undergoes no mutation either in the present or future tense. Thus, hasten thou; Grahálgalí, which is also the second person of the indicative, thou hastenest. Eichi, do thou: Grkapichi, love thou: or Grkapichiam, which likewise signifies thou wilt love. They sometimes prefix the particle Tach to the second person of the imperative, and Ták to the third: thus Tach grahápichì obey thou. Tach grakatřani, say thou. Ták hanek, let him come: which also denotes the present of the potential; thus: Ták hanek Kaámelk, the Spaniard may come for me. Prohibition is expressed by the future with the addition of the particle tchik or chigè, according to the following letter. Thus, thou mayst not kill, Chit kahamatrañiam. Thou mayst not lie, Chit Noaharegraniam.

The optative, or subjunctive, is formed of various particles, placed before or after the present of the indicative: as I shall show by examples.

Chigriek, would that. Chigriek grkapichi g'Dios eknam caogarik: Would that thou wouldst love God the Creator. Kët, if. Kët greenřani, G'Dios grkapichi kët: If thou wert good thou wouldst love God. Kët, if, is repeated both in the condition and the conditionated.

Amla, after that. Amla grkapichi g`Dios, Dios `lo nkapíchieřoám: After thou hast loved God, God will love thee. Postquam amaveris Deum, Thus amabit te.

Ehenhà, until. Ehenhà na chigrkápichi g'Dios, chitl gihè groamketápekàm: Until, or as long as thou dost not love God, thou wilt never be quiet. Donec vel quamdiu non amaveris Deum, non eris unquam quietus.

Amamach, when. Amamach rikápichieřoa, lo grkápichioam: When thou lovest me, I will love thee. Quando amaveris me, amabo te.

Kët mat, if. Kët mat nkápichirioà, là rikapitla kët: If they had loved me, I would have loved them. Si amassent me, amassem illos.

Tach, that. Tach grkápichioa, rikapichieřoàm: Love me, that I may love thee. Ama me, ut amem te.

The Abipones seem to want the infinitive, the place of which they supply in other ways, as I shall more plainly show by examples, thus: now I wish to eat: Là rihete m'hakéñe. Rihe, or rihete, I wish, and hakéñe, I eat, are both put in the same mood, tense, and person; the letter M placed between them makes, or supplies the place of our infinitive. I cannot go, Haoahen m'ahik. Haoahen and ahik, are both in the first person of the present of the indicative, M only being placed between. Thou knowest not how to teach me: Chig graařaige m'riapa grañi. Wilt thou be baptized, or, as the Abipones say, wilt thou have thy head washed? Mik mich grehech m'nakarigi gremarachi?

They elude the necessity of an infinitive, of gerunds, and supines, by various modes of speech peculiar to themselves. It may be as well to illustrate this by some examples. When we say, Can I go? an Abipon would express it in this way: I will go. There is no difficulty, or is there any difficulty? Lahikam. Chigeeka loaik, or Mañigà loaik? Thou oughtest to go, an Abipon would render thus: Yoamkatà kët, lame: It is right that thou shouldest go. Thou oughtest not to go, or it is not convenient: Mich grehech m'amè? oagan chik yoamk: Wilt thou go? though that is not convenient. How skilful this man is in swimming! an Abipon would express thus: What a swimmer this man is! Kemen álařankachak yóale! I shall be strong by eating: Rihotam am hakeñe: I shall be strong whilst I eat. I come to speak to thee: Hëëchiapegrari; kleranam kaúe, la nauè: I will speak to thee; that was the reason why I came now. The boy is wont to tell lies: La noaharegřan kén oenek. The particles kén and aage signify custom. An Abipon would also express the above sentence in this way: Noaharegřan oenek: la lahërek: The boy tells lies: now it is his custom. I am accustomed to pray: Klamach hanáyaagè m'hëëtoalá.

The passive voice in affirming has no particular form, but is expressed by some passive participle, or by active verbs. When we say that a thing is lost or ended, they say that the thing has perished, ceased, does not appear, &c. Yúihak oaloà, or chitlgihe: The ox hath perished, or does not appear. In denying, the passive is explained by an active verb only, with the addition of the particle chigat, or chigíchiekat: thus: It is not known: Chigat yaraigè. Yaraigè is the indicative mood, present tense, third person singular, of the active verb. That is not eaten: Chigat yaìk. That is not usurped: Chigat eygà. I was not informed: Chigat ripachigui. The horses were not well guarded, therefore they perished: Machka chigat nkehayape enò ahëpega, maoge oaloéra. The stars cannot be counted: Chigichiekat nakatñi eeřgřae. What is not known, ought not to be told. Am chigat yaraige, chigichiekat yaratapekam, &c.

Of many active verbs, both active, and passive, but not future participles are formed. Rikapit, I love, amo. From it are formed: Ykapicher̂, beloved by me, or my beloved; a me amatus, meus amatus. Grkapicheřachi, thy beloved, tuus amatus. Lkapicheřat, his beloved: suus amatus. From this comes the feminine. Ykapichkatè, my beloved; mea amata. Grkapichkachi, thy beloved; tua amata. Lkapichkatè, his beloved, illius amata. I am beloved by all; ego sum amatus ab omnibus: Lkapicheraté Kenoataoge. From this participle are derived, Kapicheřa, love, amor. Ykapicheřa, my love; amor meus. Kapichieraik, loving, a lover, amans, amator.

Rikaùagè, I pity, I feel a kindness for any one. Its passive participle is, Ykáuagřat, kindly affected by me. Substantive, Ykaúgřa, my good-will. Kauagřankatè, the instrument, manner, or place of good-will, or the benefit itself. Kauagřankachak, benevolent, compassionate. Ykaúagek, kindly regarded by me. Grkaúagigì, kindly regarded by thee.

Hapagřanatřan, I teach. Napagřanatřanak, the master who teaches. Napagřanatek, the scholar who is taught. Napagřanatřanřek, teaching, instruction. Napagřanatrankatè, the place where, or the matter which the scholar is taught.

We now enter a labyrinth of the Abiponian tongue, most formidable to learners, where, unless guided by long experience, as Theseus was by Ariadne, you will not be able to walk without risk of error. I am speaking of those verbs which grammarians call transitive, or reciprocal. In our language, the action of one person, or thing, upon another, is easily described by the pronouns themselves, I, thou, he, we, you. The Abipones, on the contrary, neglecting the use of the above pronouns, effect this by various inflections of the verbs, and by here and there combining new particles with them. This shall be made plainer by examples. I love thee, thou lovest me, he loves me or thee. We love him, ye love us or them. The Latins, in this manner, express mutual love, to which purpose the Abipones use much circumlocution, and various artifices, thus: Rikapit, I love. Rikapichieřou, I love thee. Grkapichioà, thou lovest me. Nkapichioà, he loves me. Nkapichieřoà, he loves thee. Grkapitaè, we love him. Grkapitla, we love them. Matníkapitalta, I love myself. Nikapichialta, thou lovest thyself. Grkapitáatá, we love one another. But would that this were a paradigm of all the verbs! Others take other particles, and changes of syllables, thus:

Rikauagè, I pity. Rikauágyégarigè, I pity thee. Grkauagiygè, thou pitiest me. Grkauág yegarik, thou pitiest us. Nkauágigyè, he pities me. Nkauág yegarigé, he pities thee. Nkaúagegè, he pities him. Grkaúagekápegetaá, we pity one another. Ñikaúakáltaá, I pity myself.

Hapagřanatřan, I teach. Neapagřan, I teach myself. Hapagřankátápegetà, we teach one another. Hapagrani, I teach thee. Riápagřani, thou teachest me. Riapagřan, he teaches me. Yapagřan, he teaches him.

Hamelk, I whip. Hámelgi, I whip thee. Riámelgi, thou whippest me. Riamelk, he whips me. Gramelgi, he whips thee. Yamélk, he whips him.

Hakleenté, I remember. Hakleenchitápegřari, I remember thee. Hakkenchitapegii, thou rememberest me. Yákleentetápegiì, he remembers me. From these instances, you will perceive the variation in transitive verbs, as sometimes eřoà, sometimes yégarige, sometimes raři, or other particles, must be added to the different persons. Believe me, the learning of them is extremely tedious to Europeans, and can only be effected by long acquaintance with these savages. Other Americans also use these transitive verbs, but their form is the same, whether mutual action or passion is expressed. Thus the Guaranies say, Ahaĭhù, I love. Orohaĭhù, I love thee. Ayukà, I kill. Oroyukà, I kill thee. Amboé, I teach. Oromboe, I teach thee, &c. What can be easier or more expeditious than this?

They sometimes express the relative who, by eknam, or, in the plural number, enonam, thus: Dios eknam Kaogarik: God who is the creator. Hemokáchin nauáchiekà, enonam yapochi: I esteem soldiers who are brave. Sometimes, in the manner of the Latins, they suppress the relative who, and supply its place by a participle, or adjective. Riákayà netegingà oakaika, kach quenò ahamr̂aeka: I abominate biting and dead dogs.