In English we say "Puss puss" to a cat. "Pooch pooch" is sometimes used in India, but "koor koor" is a more frequent word to dogs, cats, and domestic pets. "Toi-toi" is a call of the same kind. "Ti-ti" is a Kashmir call to fowls and ducks. "Ahjao!" the first syllable long drawn out, is the usual cry to fowls for feeding, and faqirs living in woodland places thus call peacocks and monkeys to a dole of grain. Though not a tail is visible at first, plaintive cries like those of lost kittens come faintly from aloft and afar in response, gradually growing louder. Then, one by one, slinging onward and downward, the creatures arrive with their leader. "Ah ah ah!" is also a common fowl and pigeon call. The sacred crocodiles in the Rajputana lakes are invited to dinner by the Brahmans with "Ao bhai!"—Come, brother! Elephants have quite a small dictionary of their own. There are separate words for—go quickly, sit, kneel with front legs, with hind legs, with all four, lie down and sleep, go slowly, lift a foot, rise, move backwards, stand still, break off branches, put me up with your trunk, make a salaam, and possibly more. All these are understood. A good mahout, too, is always talking to his beast, like the ploughman and ox-cart driver. When riding on an elephant those who have the knack of self-effacement and appearing to take no notice may hear quaint things sometimes, naÏve comments on themselves and odd phrases of reproach and encouragement to the beast. One might, indeed, from these soliloquies, ascribe more faith in animal intelligence to the Oriental than he really cherishes. Many natives habitually talk to themselves by way of beguiling the tedium of a long road; and old women of the rustic class, when walking alone, frequently rehearse their family quarrels or bargainings with dramatic gestures.

Camels have but a limited vocabulary, nor do they seem to have brought with them the Arabic "tss, tss," which is the "woa" of the beast throughout his Western home from Morocco to Hadramaut. "Hoosh" is the Biloch driver's command for sit, but in the Eastern Punjab plain they say "jai." For go on they use the heavily aspirated word for shout, "hankh,," which is also a great ox-word; whence comes "hankh," a drive of wild animals. In Anglo-Indian slang there are Government servants who have to be "hankhed" or driven to their work.

"Hiyo!" is a cow cry, but with none of the fine note of the English north-country "How up!" nor is there a pretty call like the "Cusha! cusha!" that Miss Ingelow has used so effectively in her beautiful poem, "A high tide on the coast of Lincolnshire." And as "Whitefoot" and "Lightfoot" are called to come up to the milking shed, so Indian cows are summoned by their names, often those of the days of the week, Tuesday (Mangal) being especially lucky. A deep, guttural, cork-drawing tock, very different from the English carter's click, and hard to learn, is much used for oxen, with a variety of tones of anger, encouragement, and remonstrance in the chest-deep "han." When in a hurry or stuck in a rut, Indian carters produce noises that the most skilful ventriloquist would find hard to imitate. They rumble like a rusty tower clock in act to strike, they gurgle, grunt, click, moan, and shout strange words known only to oxen, punctuating every period with blows. "Cheeo, Cheeo" is said to oxen drinking, and as they are released from labour, and must be a welcome word.

Animals also hear just the same foul and senseless abuse of their female relatives that their masters bestow on each other. The constantly heard "Sala" (brother-in-law) is the key-word to this loathsome line of talk. Among caressing epithets in use are young one, son, father, mother, darling, and daughter; sometimes my child, etc. The interjection of surprise of ordinary life "arÉ!" is often heard as a sort of "Would you, now?" Horses are calmed and stopped by the kissing chirrup with which we stimulate them in Europe, as a newcomer learns with surprise when his steed stops dead at a sound meant to make him go faster. Bird-catchers and jungle-folk at large imitate all bird and animal cries with surprising skill. Quails, however, are lured to the net by a mechanical call, produced by the finger-nail on a stretched skin. On thieving excursions the notes of the jackal, owl, and other creatures are used as signals by burglars and cattle-stealers.

On the whole Indian country cries and songs are harsh and unpleasing. But there are exceptions to this rule. In Hindustan and parts of the Bombay Presidency where oxen, walking down an incline, haul up water, the drivers accompany their work with songs clear in note, musical in cadence, and pathetic in effect.