240 To the River Plate and Back 



friends, who picnicked in a grove near the Museum, and 

 who on that occasion welcomed a number of visiting 

 acquaintances from Montevideo, who had come over 

 on the boat the night before to spend a day in La Plata. 

 After we had had our luncheon under the shadow of the 

 trees, they informed me that they would like to accom- 

 pany me to the Museum and take a peep at the replica 

 of the big skeleton. This was done, and I had the 

 pleasure of attempting to explain in very bad Spanish 

 the anatomy of the beast to a number of highly inter- 

 esting young people, who graciously condoned the 

 blunders which I am certain I must have made. To be 

 able to speak in unknown tongues was in apostolic 

 times regarded as a proof of inspiration, but in modern 

 times to essay to use a language other than that known 

 from childhood sometimes implies more courage than 

 inspiration. The results are at times comical. The 

 tendency to translate literally from one language into 

 another leads to embarrassment, and at moments to 

 hilarity. I was told a comical story by one of my 

 friends about one of his German acquaintances, who 

 was trying to make his way about Argentina with the 

 help of a pocket-dictionary and a phrase-book. He 

 went into a hotel, and by signs succeeded in getting a 

 good dinner set before him. When the meal was con- 

 cluded, he took out his pocket-dictionary and opposite 

 the word 'how' found the Spanish word como, 

 which in certain cases may mean "how,' or "I eat." 

 He then turned to the dictionary, and looking at the 

 word 'much,' found its Spanish equivalent, mucho. 

 He put the two together, and, turning to the waiter, 

 remarked, 'Como mucho?' The waiter politely 

 bowed his assent and said, "Si, senor," being perfectly 

 assured that the gentleman was correct in his statement 



