ter
in the sable trade and many of them have acquired by it a comfortable
independence.

Fishing and sable-hunting, therefore, are the serious occupations of
the Kamchadals throughout the year; but as these are indications of
the nature of the country rather than of the characteristics of its
inhabitants, they give only an imperfect idea of the distinctive
peculiarities of Kamchadals and Kamchadal life. The language, music,
amusements, and superstitions of a people are much more valuable
as illustrations of their real character than are their regular
occupations.

The Kamchadal language is to me one of the most curious of all the
wild tongues of Asia; not on account of its construction, but simply
from the strange, uncouth sounds with which it abounds, and its
strangling, gurgling articulation. When rapidly spoken, it always
reminded me of water running out of a narrow-mouthed jug! A Russian
traveller in Kamchatka has said that "the Kamchadal language is spoken
half in the mouth and half in the throat"; but it might be more
accurately described as spoken half in the throat and half in the
stomach. It has more guttural sounds than any other Asiatic language
that I have ever heard, and differs considerably in this respect
from the dialects of the Chukchis and Koraks. It is what comparative
philologists call an agglutinative language, and seems to be made up
of permanent unchangeable roots with variable prefixes. It has, so far
as I could ascertain, no terminal inflections, and its grammar seemed
to be simple and easily learned. Most of the Kamchadals throughout
the northern part of the peninsula speak, in addition to their own
language, Russian and Korak, so that, in their way, they are quite
accomplished linguists.

It has always seemed to me that the songs of a people, and especially
of a people who have composed them themselves, and not adopted them
from others, are indicative to a very great degree of their character;
whether, as some author supposed, the songs have a reflex influence
on the character, or whether they exist simply as its exponents, the
result is the same, viz., a greater or less correspondence between the
two. In none of the Siberian tribes is this more marked than in the
Kamchadals. They have evidently never been a warlike, combative
people. They have no songs celebrating the heroic deeds of their
ancestors, or their exploits in the chase or in battle, as have many
tribes of our North American I