PHONETICS OF THE KA'YOWE LANGUAGE; BY A. S. GATSCHET. 319

language, suited to the thought of its producers, is only prolix, clumsy and forced when applied to the ideas of those who have reached that higher stage of culture where language has been termed "the means of concealing thought?"

I trust that in presenting a few of the differences in this, one of the highest groups of Indian languages, I have made known some of the possibilities of what can be accomplished by an aim to follow the advice of Mr. Trumbull regarding the "resolution of synthesis by analysis," by examining those words which the Indian has so skilfully put together, and in this manner arriving at dialectical differences.

In endeavoring to fulfil the aim of this paper and availing myself of the Mohawk of M. Cuoq, I have only alluded to the points, in which, in his book written for the French people, a difference was perceptible when the same parts of speech were applied in their English sense.

From the total absence of all allusion in his rules to the numerous exceptions in the other dialects, it is more than probable that M. Cuoq was unacquainted with any other than the Mohawk, but in the incorporated particles tasera-tsera of that dialect which he terms "a kind of cement," I was able to discover the "tchra" and "sta" over which I had been greatly puzzled in Tuscarora.

I would also acknowledge my indebtedness to him for other valuable hints upon which to proceed in future investigations.

Their language is almost the only existing monument relating to the aboriginal state of the Iroquois. While it is yet in our power shall we not hasten to decipher its inscription with its revelations of the dusky past?

PHONETICS OF THE KA'YOWE LANGUAGE. By ALBERT S. GATSCHET, of Washington, D. C.

[ABSTRACT]

THE Ka'yowe or Kiowa Indians, in Spanish Caigua, are an erratic equestrian people, whose ancient home is in the eastern part of Colorado on the headwaters of the north and south fork of the Platte river. During the historical period they always appear as the associates of the Comanches, although they speak a

320 PHONETICS OF THE KA'YOWE LANGUAGE; BY A. S. GATSCHET.

language which possesses no affinity with that of the Comanches. They call themselves Ko'-i, in the plural Ko'-igu.

The phonetics of Ka'yowe are perhaps as intricate as those of most other unwritten languages, and the number of sounds in this language are rather considerable, for if we count the long vowels separately from the short ones, we find thirty-eight sounds, and with the nasalized vowels forty-four, just as many sounds as there are sounds in the English language.

The most conspicuous fact in the phonetic series of this language is the prevalence of the nasals, and the total absence of the palatals tch and dsh (Eng. j), which are so frequent in the majority of the American tongues, and of z and v. The guttural and dental series are well represented, while in the labial series P, band m are the only frequent sounds.

Nasalizing is a prominent feature in Ka'yowe phonetics, more so in the vocalic than in the consonantic series. The dl is a peculiar sound of the language, occurring also in other Mississippian languages, as in the Pawnee and its cognate dialects. The first syllables of words end just as often in a consonant as in a vowel, but all other syllables usually terminate in a clear or nasalized vowel. Accentuation often makes a vowel long: pa'-upado or pa-upa'do "threefold."

An unbounded freedom pervades the phonetics of the Indian languages; this can best be observed in the constant permutation or interchangeability of the sounds produced by the same vocal organ, and this also explains why the languages are written down so differently even by competent investigators. Examples taken from Ka'yowe will illustrate this in a singular manner. Thus du'ndei, mouse, can be pronounced also tû'nte-i, tu'nte-i; o'nsû, to start out, ho'nsû, a'nsû, a' sû; o'logi, money, o'lonki, o'lo" gi, olo'mki; ndî'nda, ours, di'da, ndi'da; o-ata'm, wild cat, o-ûtä'm; o'dl, hair, o'l, u-o'l; sî'b'nda, it rains, se'b'nda, sib'da; ta'ki, good, ta'-aki, to'-iki, toi'gi.

Of other phonetic peculiarities in Ka'yowe, I mention the shifting of the accent from syllable to syllable in some polysyllabic terms, for rhetoric reasons. Apheresis is frequent and apocope still more so. The language has a decided tendency toward monosyllabism; probably this tendency is as strong as in English, and by all means stronger than we observe it in French.

ANIMAL MYTHS. By ERMINNIE A. SMITH, of Jersey City, N. J.

[ABSTRACT.]

To those familiar with the myths of all countries, it is unnecessary to look back for testimony to the mummy-pits and hieroglyphics of Egypt, or to refer to the ancient mounds of our own country, where often the well defined outline of some animal points to the fact that there existed an undefined, closer communion between the whole human race in its infancy and the animal world than in this age of civilization, when man looks down with contempt on those living beings which, in the glory of his worldly wisdom, he terms the "lower animals" or "brute creation." In none of these myths do we find this more interestingly demonstrated than in that of the aborigines of our own country, and above all in that of their highest type, the Iroquois.

To them Nature was a book from whose picture-writing they read such of her secrets as served their simple needs. From the nature of the trees and their known requirements they could read, as from a guide-post, the path to the rich bottoms where watercourses would supply food for their wigwams and the fields of maize would flourish; from the growth of mosses on the bark they had by day, in the illimitable forest, as sure a guide on their way as the compass, and by night had they not the pole star? The simple Indian, with mind unfettered by teachings, had a warm fellow-feeling with all of external nature which he could utilize, but the mysterious, that which he could not comprehend or use, overawed him. Therefore the echo, the thunder, and the wind were considered divinities.

The study of the mythology of Greece is considered the basis of a liberal literary education; but in the ideas of the primitive inhabitants of our continent there may also be found traces of true poetic feeling. Their knowledge of animal life was almost instinctive, and many were the lessons in natural history taught around the camp fire in the long winter evenings, either by the narration of hunting exploits, or through a fable which, if lacking the moral lessons of those of Esop, often excelled them in pith and ingenuity.

Such an one is the story of the "Origin of the Raccoon Tune,"

which in its repetition would lose much of the interest it possessed when told me by an old Seneca, who interspersed its narration with the songs belonging to it. This story, concerning the cunning of the hungry raccoon and his capture of the crabs, illustrates the wood-craft of the aborigines. The sole surviving crab, escaped from his enemy and perishing from thirst, is represented in the legend as resorting to profound wood lore for the discovery of the watercourse of which he is in search, by questioning each tree he approaches as to its name. The first replies that it is a pine from which, as its nature is to grow on the dry, high lands and hill-sides, the crab at once comprehends that no water is to be found in its vicinity. The next is an oak, the next a maple which flourishes on lower ground, wherefore the fainting crab takes heart; at last tired, weary and parched, he finally approaches a willow, and lo, the longed-for water is at hand.

Stories of transformations of men into beasts, and of beasts into men, are numerous and form the basis of all the stories regarding the origin of the different clans.

The Indians, unlike nearly all other barbarians, considered the thunder a benevolent agency. By most savages, thunder and lightning are regarded simply with terror, while our northern ancestors made of Thor a furious deity, to be propitiated as the ruler of mischievous spirits. Abridged from the story as told by Mr. Hale, the thunder-myth of the Indian is this:-A young brave, when out on a hunt, was accidentally wounded so that he had to be carried by his companions; they grew weary of the task and treacherously threw him into a pit by the way. He fell to the bottom and they went to the village bringing the report to the young brave's mother that they had tended him in his last agonies. When the young warrior awoke from the swoon into which he was plunged by his fall, he found himself at the bottom of a cave with an old man bending over him. The old man told him not to be alarmed for he would bring herbs which would cure him; so, under the healing influence of the old man's herbs, the youth revived. Then the old man proposed to him that they hùnt in partnership. The warrior out of gratitude gave ready consent. One day the young man went out alone and found a bear of enormous size. The bulk of the slain animal was far too great for his strength; while he hesitated he saw three men of a strange appearance, with their cloud-like garments and with wings on

their shoulders. When questioned they told him that they were three of the thunder-spirits, of whom there were very many; they also said that he must distrust the old man with whom they had seen him hunting, for he was an impostor. They bade him bring the old man with him when he next went to hunt, and see what would happen. The young warrior then hastened back to the cave where the old man lived and brought him along; when they arrived at the place where the dead bear lay, the cloud-dressed warriors had disappeared, but the sky began to be overcast. The old man showed great uneasiness, increasing to terror, and as the storm came on he betook himself to flight, but just before he reached the entrance of his cave he was suddenly transformed into an enormous porcupine and just then was killed by a thunderbolt. Now the cloud-spirits reappeared and told the young warrior to put on a garment like their own which they had brought for him. He did so and was immediately able to rise into the air; soon he was at his own village and appeared before his mother, who was at first terrified, thinking she had seen a ghost. Thereafter the young man lived many years in honor among his clansmen, but every spring he donned his cloud-dress with the wings, and went rambling about the sky with the thunder-spirits to see all the kind things which they did for the benefit of the human race, and assist in exterminating great sea-serpents which poisoned the waters, for this was one of the great missions of "Hi-nuh," the thunderers.

This is a strange and significant story when contrasted with the Greek idea of the vengeful thunder-bolts of Jove, which as often brought death to men as to the enemies of men.

The song of the robin-redbreast is, to the Tuscarora, the tender story of the brave youth, who, in the glory of his war-paint, was transformed into that blithesome bird.

Is it then strange that, with these ideas inherent in their natures, they should, when having learned of heaven and the spirit-world, release a little bird over the graves of their loved ones, that it might carry the departing spirit to its "home in the sky," the literal interpretation of the Iroquois word for heaven?