THE INDIANS 219 
of the people lays quick hold of the possibilities of the nick- 
name. 
Not infrequently the name of a child is given from some 
trait or chance occurrence. The name Mattawayshish, 
“Playbear,”’ belonging to an Indian first seen by the writer 
as a tall old man, dignified though feeble, was doubtless 
given by the mother to the little boy who played behind the 
bushes in days long gone. 
A short, active man with a peg-top build was nicknamed 
Mistnouk, from the great triangular fly known in Maine as 
the moose-fly. A stranger from across some far water 
was dubbed “Over-sea”’ or its Indian equivalent. Indian 
rebaptisms, as to name, are not uncommon, especially 
in connection with younger men of no especial standing. 
Many of the Montagnais have French names. Neverthe- 
less, as many as half the people, it may be, speak only the 
aboriginal tongue; their names, with those of many others, 
are naturally still of the vernacular. 
As regards the language as a whole, it is probable that 
few but its actual students realize its scope and resources. 
Notwithstanding the number of names both of places and 
persons which we have accepted from the race, it would 
not be far wrong to say that the chance person of cultiva- 
tion, if told that the Indian language consisted of a few 
uncouth words of limited import, would assent as a matter 
of course. It is true that their field of observation as com- 
pared with that of modern civilization is limited. The 
swelling tide of our technical vocabularies, our now half- 
inanimate burden of metaphysical terms, have scarcely 
+ A northern Indian had a name meaning ‘‘ Man-in-the-Moon.” 
