be shown in the efforts they will make to learn more than one
"language." They will set their young to spending a decade or
more of their lives in studying duplicate systems--whole systems--of
chatter. Those who thus learn several different ways to say the same
things, will command much respect, and those who learn many will be
looked on with awe--by true simians. And persons without this
accomplishment will be looked down on a little, and will actually
feel quite apologetic about it themselves.

Consider how enormously complicated a complete language must be,
with its long and arbitrary vocabulary, its intricate system of
sounds; the many forms that single words may take, especially if
they are verbs; the rules of grammar, the sentence structure, the
idioms, slang and inflections. Heavens, what a genius for tongues
these simians have![1] Where another race, after the most frightful
discord and pains, might have slowly constructed one language before
this earth grew cold, this race will create literally hundreds, each
complete in itself, and many of them with quaint little systems of
writing attached. And the owners of this linguistic gift are so
humble about it, they will marvel at bees, for their hives, and at
beavers' mere dams.

[1] You remember what Kipling says in the Jungle Books, about how
disgusted the quiet animals were with the Bandarlog, because they
were eternally chattering, would never keep still. Well, this is
the good side of it.


To return, however, to their fear of being too narrow, in going
to the other extreme they will run to incredible lengths. Every