then to the West, and after each journey alights at the same tent, where that Pythian, like a female Apollo, pours forth her eloquence. The four excursions being performed, and the horses dismissed, they all betake themselves to that sacred tent, to witness the usual ceremony of the inauguration. This ceremony consists of three things: first the hair of the candidate is shaven by an old woman, so that from the forehead to the back part of the head she leaves a baldness or streak, three inches wide, which they call _Nalemřa_. The business of the hair being finished, the old woman pronounces a panegyric, setting forth the noble actions of the candidate, his warlike disposition, knowledge of arms and horses, intrepidity in difficulties, the enemies that he has slaughtered, the spoils that he has taken, the military fame of his ancestors, and so on; in order that he may appear, on many accounts, worthy to be declared a captain and a noble warrior, and to enjoy the rights and privileges of the Höcheri. His new name is immediately promulgated, and festively pronounced by a band of women striking their lips with their hands. The male spectators do not like dry ceremonies to be protracted to a great length, but joyfully fly to skins full of honeyed liquor, and conclude the business with a famous drinking-match. It is remarkable that many of the women arrive at this degree of honour, and nobility, enjoy the privileges of the Höcheri, and use their dialect. The names of these females end in _En_, as those of the men in _In_. What circumstances entitle women of low birth to this degree of honour, I do not know, but it appears to me most probable that the merits of their parents, husbands, or brothers, not age, or beauty, bestow this prerogative upon females. I have often heard very young women conversing in the language of the nobles, and matrons remarkable for years and wrinkles speaking the vulgar tongue. The Abipones think it a sin to utter their own name. When either of them knocked by night at my door, though I asked him a hundred times, "Who are you?" he would answer nothing but, "It is I." Unknown persons, when I enquired their name, would jog their neighbour with their elbow that he might answer for them. It is also reckoned a crime to utter the name of a person lately dead. If any one in his cups forgets the law, and utters the name of the deceased, he will give occasion to a bloody quarrel. Many women have no name at all. When I was making out a list of the inhabitants of a town, I used to call upon all the men who were best acquainted with their hordesmen to give me information on the subject, and when interrogated respecting women, they used often to say: "This woman has no name."