The Musultnan rulers strove to make their subjects learn PerSian and Hindustani, but with little success: and the few Hindus who managed to learn Hindustani (which they never could pronounce aright) altered its syntax, and hence arose the language called Dakhini, which gives the words a peculiar arrangement.
Each language of Southern India has (like English) a poetical dialect, which uses the entire vocabulary; and a colloquial style, which requires only about one-fourth of the phrases. Some have fanoied that the poets use a separate vocabulary; but this is not the case. To exemplify this in English: the words "Horse, courser, steed, nag, palfrey, hunter, pony, barb, jade, hack, bay, roan, grey"—"To think, reflect, consider, ponder, muse, weigh" —are all one; but the Hindu, understanding the first word alone, may fancy the rest obsolete, merely because they are not used in ordinary life.
While the language used in the poets is uniform, local dialects of Telugu vary; and we may be able to speak that of Kadapa, while unable to understand that of Raja-mahendra-varam, or Condapilli, or Visakha-patnam. But, for the purposes of mere tuition, now that the "Reader" is printed, a native of any part of the Telugu country will suffice for a tutor: indeed at Chittoor, and even at Tanjaur and Trichinapali, in the heart of the Tamil country, I met with Telugu bramhans who were excellent assistants. But, while young in the study, we should, as soon as possible, get rid of a tutor who can speak English: such a munshi is apt to neglect teaching, while he eagerly learns English from his pupil. In hiring servants, also, though such as talk English abound, we should early obtain such as will speak to us in Telugu. After we speak the language correctly, it is an indulgence to those around us to converse with them in English, for this benefits them.
Hindu grammarians, like those of China, neglect the colloquial dialect, which they suppose is already known to the student, and teach only the poetical peculiarities. They are willing to aid our studies, either in Telugu poetry or in Sanscrit; they are reluctant to teach us the language of common business: but unless we first surmount this, the lowest step (which natives attain untaught) how can we climb to the highest? A shrewd critic has observed,
