But, when men possessed marital privileges, each ‘over every woman not belonging to his own _gens_; sharing, of course, these privileges with every other man belonging to the same _gens_ or class as himself’ (p. 112), where is the individual right acquired by capture? It seems that each man, besides his ‘1,000 miles of wives’ ‘has his own individual wife ... by right of capture.’ Now the Urabunna have no such individual wives, if, like Lord Avebury, we accept the statement of Messrs. Spencer and Gillen (p. 63). But the Arunta have such individual wives. Here it seems necessary for Lord Avebury, if he agrees with these authors, to prove that the Arunta, unlike the Urabunna, do demonstrably acquire their individual wives by capture. But no such demonstration is produced. Till proof is offered I am unable to appreciate the force of Lord Avebury’s reasoning, while like Mr. Crawley, I doubt whether individual marriage does not exist among the Urabunna, the Piraungaru license not being, I conceive, a true survival of communal marriage, but a peculiar institution. LORD AVEBURY ON RELATIONSHIPS Analysing Mr. Morgan’s collection of names for relationships, Lord Avebury (p. 182) says, ‘in fact the idea of relationship, like that of marriage, was founded, not upon duty, but upon power.’ We try to suggest that the classificatory names for relationships are, to a great extent, expressive of status, seniority, and mutual duties and services in the community--these duties and services themselves being gradually established by power--the power of the seniors. Yet some terms analysed by Lord Avebury have, linguistically, other sources. ‘Wife,’ in Cree, is ‘part of myself,’ _dimidium animæ meæ_, these twain are one flesh. Obviously this pretty term does not spring from ‘communal marriage.’ In Chocta, ‘husband’ is ‘he who leads me,’--again not communal, but indicating the old-fashioned theory of wifely obedience. (‘He who kicks me’ would suffice, in some civilised quarters.) ‘Daughter-in-law,’ in Delaware, is ‘my cook,’ indicating service; and ‘husband’ is ‘my aid through life,’ showing the advanced Homeric, or Christian, view of marriage (pp. 180-181). ‘Father’ and ‘Mother’ in many African, European and Asian, Non-Aryan, Oceanic, Australian, and, really in Aryan languages, also often in America, are ‘the easiest sounds which a child can pronounce indicating father and mother’ (pp. 442-449). If babes could distinguish father and mother, these relationships, one thinks, could not have been unknown to adults. They may be, and are, extended in usage, so as to embrace what we call uncles and aunts and seniors of the kin, but this, I try to argue, does not necessarily imply that fatherhood and motherhood, owing to communal marriage, were long unknown.