Among the many commandments that are always broken in Spain, that of “swear not at all” is not the least. “Our army swore lustily in Flanders,” said Uncle Toby. But few nations can surpass the Spaniards in the language of vituperation: it is limited only by the extent of their anatomical, geographical, astronomical, and religious knowledge; it is so plentifully bestowed on their animals--“un muletier à ce jeu vaut trois rois”--that oaths and imprecations seem to be considered as the only language the mute creation can comprehend; and as actions are generally suited to the words, the combination is remarkably effective. As much of the traveller’s time on the road must be passed among beasts and muleteers, who are not unlike them, some knowledge of their sayings and doings is of great use: to be able to talk to them in their own lingo, to take an interest in them and in their animals, never fails to please; “_Por vida del demonio, mas sabe Usia que nosotros_;” “by the life of the devil, your honour knows more than we,” is a common form of compliment. When once equality is established, the master mind soon becomes the real master of the rest. The great oath of Spain, which ought never to be written or pronounced, practically forms the foundation of the language of the lower orders; it is a most ancient remnant of the phallic abjuration of the evil eye, the dreaded fascination which still perplexes the minds of Orientals, and is not banished from Spanish and Neapolitan superstitions.[4] The word terminates in _ajo_, on which great stress is laid: the _j_ is pronounced with a most Arabic, guttural aspiration. The word _ajo_ means also garlic, which is quite as often in Spanish mouths, and is exactly what Hotspur liked, a “mouth-filling oath,” energetic and Michael Angelesque. The pun has been extended to onions: thus, “_ajos y cebollas_” means oaths and imprecations. The sting of the oath is in the “_ajo_;” all women and quiet men, who do not wish to be particularly objurgatory, but merely to enforce and give a little additional vigour, un soupçon d’ail, or a shotting to their discourse, drop the offensive “_ajo_,” and say “_car_,” “_carai_,” “_caramba_.” The Spanish oath is used as a verb, as a substantive, as an adjective, just as it suits the grammar or the wrath of the utterer. It is equivalent also to a certain place and the person who lives there. “_Vaya Usted al C--ajo_” is the worst form of the angry “_Vaya Usted al demonio_,” or “_á los infiernos_,” and is a whimsical mixture of courtesy and transportation. “Your Grace may go to the devil, or to the infernal regions!”