Tylor says that the language of gestures is substantially the same all the world over, and this assertion is confirmed by all who have practised and studied it. Its syntax resembles that of deaf-mutes, and it is unnecessary to repeat it. The parable of the Prodigal Son was translated by Mallery into analytic gestures; and from this language translated afresh into the spoken tongue: “Formerly, man one, sons two,” etc., etc. The comparison of the two texts is instructive: in the one, the thought unfolds itself by a movement of complete analysis with relations and shades of meaning: in the other, it resembles a line of badly quarried blocks, put together without cement. After what has already been said, there is nothing surprising in finding a fundamental analogy, or even identity, between the language of deaf-mutes and the analytic gestures of primitive peoples. It was indeed pointed out by Akerly in an institution in New York in the beginning of the century. Gérando gave a good many examples,[38] remarking that the “gestures of reduction,” i. e., abridged gestures, are often enough identical in the two cases. Mallery brought together some Utah Indians, and a deaf-mute, who gave them a long account of a marauding expedition, followed by a dialogue: they understood each other perfectly. The language of analytical gesture is thus a substitute for spoken language, and this leads us to a question which, though purely speculative, deserves our attention for a moment. At a time when it was almost universally admitted that man is unable to think without words, Dugald Stewart ventured to write: “If men had been deprived of the organs of voice or the sense of hearing, there is no doubt that they would have invented an alphabet of visible signs wherewith to express all their ideas and sentiments.”[39] This is no rash assertion; we have just seen proofs of it. But is this pantomime-language susceptible of progress?