They never sing all at once, but only two at a time, always greatly varying their voices from high to low, one either taking up, or following, or interrupting the other, and sometimes accompanying him. Now one, now the other is silent for a short interval. The tones vary according to the subject of the song, with many inflexions of the sound, and, if I may so express myself, a good deal of shaking. He who, by a quicker motion of the throat, can now suspend the song for a while, now protract, and now interrupt it with groans, or laughter, or can imitate the bellowing of a bull, or the tremulous voice of a kid,—he will gain universal applause. No European would deny that these savage singers inspired him with a kind of melancholy and horror, so much are the ears, and even the mind affected by that deadly chaunting, the darkness adding greatly to the mournful effect. One of the singers rattles a gourd filled with maize seeds, to the time of the music. Sometimes the gourd alone preludes the singing, as in a band of musicians; at others, it follows the voice of the singer, and very seldom rests for ever so little a while. When two are singing at a time, it is wonderful to hear so much concord in such discordant voices. You never observe them hesitate or pause: for they do not sing extemporaneously, but what has been long studied beforehand. The songs are restricted by no metrical laws, but sometimes have a rhythmical sound. The number of verses is regulated, not according to the pleasure of the singer, but according to the variety of the subject. Nothing but warlike expeditions, slaughters, and spoils of the enemy, taking of towns, plundering of waggons and estates, burning and depopulating colonies of the Spaniards, and other tragedies of that kind furnish the savages with subjects for singing and rejoicing. These events, together with the place, and time, where, and when they happened, they describe; not rudely, but with considerable elegance. Struck, as it were, with poetic rage, by appropriate words, and modulations of the voice, they contrive to express indignation, fear, threatening, or joy. Though, in order not to damp the hilarity, they scarce make any mention of the deaths, and wounds of the Abipones, and employ themselves exclusively in exaggerating the slaughter of the enemy. During the time that these songs are chaunted, a period of many hours, not one of the auditors dares utter a word, and though night itself persuades sleep, you will not see one of them even yawn.