eristics, than our writers,
with one or two exceptions, have ever understood. One extraordinary
difference still remains to be pointed out--as it has, in fact, already
been, with great acumen, by Mr George Borrow, in his "Gipsies in Spain,"
and by Dr Alexander Paspati, in his "Etudes sur les Tchinghianes ou
Bohemiens de l'Empire Ottoman" (Constantinople, 1870); also by Mr Bright,
in his "Hungary," and by Mr Simson. It is this, that in every part of
the world it is extremely difficult to get Rommany words, even from
intelligent gipsies, although they may be willing with all their heart to
communicate them. It may seem simple enough to the reader to ask a man
"How do you call 'to carry' in your language?" But can the reader
understand that a man, who is possibly very much shrewder than himself in
reading at a glance many phases of character, and in countless
trickeries, should be literally unable to answer such a question? And
yet I have met with many such. The truth is, that there are people in
this world who never had such a thing as an abstract idea, let us say
even of an apple, plumped suddenly at them--not once in all their
lives--and, when it came, the unphilosophical mind could no more grasp
it, than the gentleman mentioned by G. H. Lewes (History of Philosophy),
could grasp the idea of substance without attribute as presented by
Berkeley. The real Gipsy could talk about apples all day, but the sudden
demand for the unconnected word, staggers him--at least, until he has had
some practice in this, to him, new process. And it is so with other
races. Professor Max Muller once told me in conversation, as nearly as I
can recollect, that the Mohawk Indian language is extremely rich in
declension, every noun having some sixteen or seventeen inflexions of
case, but no nominative. One can express one's relations to a father to
a most extraordinary extent, among the dilapidated descendants of that
once powerful tribe. But such a thing as the abstract idea of _a_
father, or of 'father' _pur et simple_, never entered the Mohawk mind,
and this is very like the Gipsies.

When a rather wild Gipsy once gives you a word, it must be promptly
recorded, for a demand for its repetition at once confuses him. _On doit
saisir le mot echappe au Nomade, et ne pas l'obliger a le repeter, car il
le changera selon so, facon_, says Paspati. Unused to abstract efforts
of memory, all that he can retain is the sense of his last remark,