A FIRST BOOK
IN WRITING ENGLISH

A FIRST BOOK
IN
WRITING ENGLISH

BY
EDWIN HERBERT LEWIS, Ph.D.
ASSOCIATE PROFESSOR OF ENGLISH IN LEWIS INSTITUTE
AND IN THE UNIVERSITY OF CHICAGO

New York
THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
LONDON: MACMILLAN & CO., Ltd.
1897

All rights reserved

Copyright, 1897,
By THE MACMILLAN COMPANY.

Norwood Press
J. S. Cushing & Co.—Berwick & Smith
Norwood Mass. U.S.A.

PREFACE

It sometimes happens that the study of the principles of composition is left until the overcrowded last year of the high school, under the plea that facts ought to precede generalizations. Is it not better to have the pupil begin two or three years earlier than this to frame simple generalizations for his own future guidance? The first year student daily awakes to new experiences and problems. He demands rules and reasons: “How shall he choose theme topics? How much shall he put into a sentence? Why is electrocution in bad usage?” If the principle is asked for, should it not be given—as much of it as can be digested? When such a course is followed, time enough is left in the high school for composition to become a habit. The complex process wherein invention, as it proceeds, is rectified by criticism, involves many delicate reflexes. The formulated principle, invaluable to the student in revising, in turn grows to be an unconscious factor in every succeeding act of composition.

The more essential rules ought not to be mere phantoms to the boy just completing his first year in the secondary school. In regard to other matters of living, great principles are taught him from infancy, without the slightest fear of setting up too analytic a state of mind. If a boy of three may be told “always to do one thing at a time,” must a boy be eighteen before he is told “always to write about one thing at a time”? At three the child is required to control some of his strongest emotions; must he be eighteen before he is asked to check digressions in the paragraph? And is it possible to implant a genuine habit of checking digressions except by leading the student from particular instances to some generalization which he may keep in mind as a norm for future self-criticism? Synthesis and analysis cannot safely be separated; a good prescription for most rhetorical disorders is, more of both. Indeed, what seems to be needed to-day in teaching composition is not one thing, but several: on the one hand, more utilization of literature and more appeal to social interests; on the other hand, more inductions and generalizations by the student himself; on both hands, more time for practice and self-criticism.

In the present book, originally printed privately for my own classes and now rewritten and enlarged, I have tried to present a large number of definite situations to be faced for constructive practice both in organization and in diction; and to give in simple, even colloquial language, all the larger generalizations which a boy presenting himself at college might reasonably be expected to have been using for two or three years as touchstones of his own work. Except in the chapters on punctuation and grammar, the order of reaching generalizations is meant to be essentially inductive. In these review-chapters a part of the principles come before the illustrations in order to get the help of all past associations. Even here the induction is often gone through with a second time, leading up to a restatement of the principle. It is recommended that students should often be asked to frame generalizations of their own, though the text-book may have led up to similar ones. In Chapters VII. and X., on words, I have tried to present conditions favorable to the framing of definitions by the student. By various devices I have constantly tried to avoid separation between exercise critical and exercise constructive. Occasionally, after the correct form has been studied, bad English is offered for correction, for the sake of the appeal to the student’s personal pride and his sense of the ridiculous; but in general it is assumed that the student’s correction of his own bad English will afford plenty of contact with faulty forms.

The book is primarily intended to be used in close connection with the literary studies of the first two years of the secondary course. It may be used later if the arrangement of subjects allows little time for literature in these earlier years. The order of presentation should,[1] in the author’s opinion, follow that of the book. Still, Chapter VIII., on correct choice of words, may be taken at the start if the teacher prefers. Where a good deal of literary study is carried on in the first year, the first eight chapters are perhaps enough for this year. But a rate of progress cannot be prescribed. A text-book is a mere help, and bad in proportion as it tries to be anything more. Its function seems to be to supply the supplementary appeal to the eye, since the living teacher can engage to do this but to a limited extent. It appears obvious that the book should be read slowly enough to permit two things—much parallel literary study, and much revision of themes in the light of preceding chapters. First drafts are sometimes all that are worth making; but usually a task requiring connected discourse is not finished until there have been several revisions. If the student writes each new composition with a view to one particular kind of excellence, and then revises with reference to the kinds of excellence he has previously striven for, he will gradually be able to hold several stylistic principles in mind as he composes. Many themes should be written in class. A limited period should be set for the first draft; and half as much time may well be spent in revising before this is handed in. In this revision the student may profitably read his theme as many times as there are chapters to be mentally reviewed.

The remarkable strength of the verbal memory in students of the first two years of the secondary school is a fact by which every teacher must have been impressed.[2] Add to this fact the other, that the pupil’s social interests are now in a perfect renaissance of liveliness, and you have exactly the conditions for enlarging the working vocabulary. It is now or never. The boy, though like the man he hates a fine distinction in conversation, is growing out of the exaggerated reticence which has of late seemed to him the manly thing. He is no longer determined to employ what Mrs. Meynell, speaking of the boy of twelve, calls his “carefully shortened vocabulary.”[3] The girl, even more than the boy, is full of new ideas which would flower into speech if the words were to be had. To capture these new interests and satisfy them by literature is of course the best thing. Study of isolated words, whether for knowledge or for power, is but supplementary to the study of the vital functions of words in the living organism. But even the study of synonyms, if pursued in preparation for an oral debate,—one of the very best exercises for first-year students,—or in connection with a page of spirited prose, rapidly becomes constructive and vital. Although the chapters on vocabulary (IX. and X.) may be given before the student has begun a foreign language, the best results with them will not be secured until he has had at least six months in Latin. The study of prefixes and suffixes (p. 186 ff.) should not be made burdensome. Some general view of the subject seems desirable, but the detailed study is best given in connection with an interesting context.

For kindly criticism or advice I have debts of gratitude to Professor and Mrs. W. D. McClintock; to Professor F. A. March, Professor John Dewey, and Professor Robert Herrick; to several of my colleagues, especially Director George M. Carman, Miss Jane Noble, and Mr. Phil B. Kohlsaat; to Mr. F. A. Manny, to Mrs. Hufford and Miss Dye, of Indianapolis; to Superintendent A. F. Nightingale, Miss Jones, and Miss Herrick, of the Chicago high schools. I have been particularly indebted to Carpenter’s Advanced Exercises, a book made familiar to me by using it with freshmen in college; and to Scott & Denney’s Paragraph-Writing. For the index I have to thank Miss L. E. W. Benedict, librarian of Lewis Institute, and Mr. Lewis Gustafson.

E. H. L.

Chicago, April 15, 1897.

CONTENTS

INTRODUCTORY EXPLANATIONS

Our plan provides for a good many short compositions. These, as well as all other exercises, should be written on uniform theme-paper,[4] say eight inches by ten, with a broad margin at both sides. There are advantages in the double margin. First, it is easier for the reader of the theme to jot down his suggestions at the right, since he need not turn the paper to do so. Secondly, it is well for the student to learn the knack of keeping a straight edge at the left hand. Only one side of the paper should be written on. If a mistake is made, a heavy line may be drawn through the word. The manuscript ought to present the neatest possible appearance. Blank spaces are to be avoided at the end of lines, except where a paragraph ends. The straight edge, referred to above, is to be scrupulously preserved at the left of the page, except that when a new paragraph (that is, division of the theme) is to begin, the first line of it should start about two inches farther to the right than the other lines. The pages should be carefully numbered in the upper right-hand corner, and kept in their proper order. Nothing is more disconcerting to any person who reads a manuscript than to open the paper and find before him the last page, rather than the first. Every theme should have a definite title. This should appear in the blank space at the top of the first page and in the endorsement of the folded paper, on the back of the last page. The theme should be folded once, lengthwise. In the blank space at the top should be written the endorsement, which should follow this model: (1) name; (2) name of course; (3) title; (4) date.

After the themes have been read, whether by the instructor alone or by the class and the instructor, they will be returned with marginal comments, and (just under the endorsement) a summary of these comments. In many cases the student will be expected to rewrite, and the word Rewrite will appear with the general comment. Otherwise he will be expected to Revise, that is, to interline corrections and improvements on the manuscript without copying it.

Each student’s papers will be filed and kept. He will often be asked to consult with the instructor concerning his own progress, as shown by his bundle of themes.

The following suggestive signs[5] may be used in the margin of themes, indicating the presence of errors, the actual errors to be discovered by the pupil for himself. Some teachers will prefer a simpler system of symbols, some a more elaborate system. The suggested list can easily be modified or supplanted.

A strong notebook of portable size is needed for the work in spelling and vocabulary. It should be used from the first for noting new words, etc. See page 199.

A FIRST BOOK
IN
WRITING ENGLISH

CHAPTER I
THE ART OF WRITING ENGLISH

An Art of Communication.—Language may be studied in various ways. It may be scientifically investigated as a historical growth, or as a curious revelation of how the human mind works. This kind of study has pure knowledge for its object; if it learns the laws which govern language, it is satisfied. Again, language may be studied with a view to applying its principles to the art of self-expression. The attempt to find words for one’s ideas has enlivened many a weary hour for many a person who wrote merely for his own satisfaction. But the chief object for which language should be studied is that it may be made a means of communication.

Most that is good in life comes from men’s ability to make their fellows share their thoughts and feelings. But it is not always an easy thing to make others see how we feel or think. The young child is called an infant, a word which means not-speaking. Half his miseries arise from his inability to communicate his notions. “Men are but children of a larger growth,” and much of their misery results from inability to tell what they think or feel. In a sense the case is worse for the man than for the child. The latter makes gestures and grimaces to help his meaning out; and he depends not in vain on pitch and stress. The grown man is partly shorn of these helps, in that he has to communicate by letters and other compositions. How much more work the eye does to-day than the ear! Before the age of printing, things were different.

Both in speaking and in writing there are many special laws that must be observed if there is to be real communication. The special laws of spoken language are not so numerous as those of written language. Written language has to be much more careful than spoken; the writer has no chance of correcting himself on the spot if not understood. Nevertheless a knowledge of how to communicate by written words is a very great help in communicating orally.

The art of communicating by means of written English words is called English composition, or rhetoric. The latter word once meant the art of speaking; and it still keeps this sense when a composition is written to be delivered. Rhetoric is a useful art, like that of curing the sick, or that of building bridges. A matter of prime importance to each man is that, in business or in society, he should be able to say or write exactly what he means; rhetoric helps him to do this. A business man may lose money by failing to make himself clearly understood; misunderstandings and quarrels arise between friends because some one has failed to write just what he meant; a man is liable to be taken for a boor if he abuses the English language. Rhetoric is an exceedingly practical art.

It would not, however, be fair to remove all emphasis from the fact that rhetoric is a fine art, an art of beauty. As soon as the student begins to master the use of words, he has a chance to become an artist in language. In producing a beautiful thing he feels the artist’s pleasure. Most persons like to play some musical instrument, or experiment in color, or use a camera. Why should they not come to enjoy the art of setting down their ideas in words skilfully chosen, and arranged with delicate precision? The old Greeks enjoyed it—those people who knew how to extract so much high pleasure from life. Along with their musical contests and athletic contests, they had trials of skill in poetry and in public speech.

There is no more delightful art than that of writing, if the writer finds words for his own fresh impressions. In order to learn the mandolin, a new player will train his wrist till it aches. But thrumming music is doubtless small pleasure compared with writing music; and writing English is in a way like writing music,—a fine, high, creative process, which, in the hands of a master, results in a permanent, not a fleeting, product.

A teacher of English recently said that, in a certain sense, if a student likes any study at all he can be brought to like composition also.[6] She was right. If he cares for mathematics, and the beautiful precision by which everything in mathematics falls exactly into its place, he will enjoy showing the exact relations he conceives to exist between the parts of his sentence. If a girl likes music she will care for the music that is in prose. She will perceive that a good sentence is free from ugly sounds, and has furthermore a music of rhythm, a finely modulated rise and fall that a keen ear readily perceives. A lad declares himself interested in inventing or in building machinery. If so, why should he not enjoy building a theme? To think out a new mechanical device requires much the same kind of ingenuity, sense of proportion, perception of cause and effect, that are required in thinking out the logical framework of a composition.

The student should work steadily toward the point where he may come to have an abiding love for that which is lucid and beautiful in expression by words. He will never regret the time he spends in perfecting his instrument of expression. No matter how practical the life he plans to lead, the power of writing down his ideas in good English, in a way that will leave no doubt as to what he meant and how earnestly he meant it, will always profit him. One meets everywhere men who lament that they gave so little attention to our language when they were young enough to master it.

The Limitations of the Art.—It must never be supposed that, because to some extent a fine art, rhetoric should be studied as an end in itself. What was said a moment ago about the primary aim of the study must be kept steadily in view. We study the art of composition not for the art’s sake, but to communicate our ideas and feelings. Rhetoric does not profess to supply the student with ideas, though it assumes that his mind is stimulated to new thought by trying to express that which he already has. The more ideas he brings to the study,—ideas he has thought out in life or in his other studies, like literature, history, civics,—the more facility he will carry away; for ideas are the very best of material to make themes of. If composition does only one thing for a given person,—if, namely, it brings him to a sturdy habit of finding something to say before he asks other people to listen to him,—it is eminently worth while.

Write for an Audience.—Writing is usually good in proportion as the writer is interested in it. If he cares for it, if he is anxious to find a worthy thought and make it clear to the eyes of others, he will be very likely to succeed in doing so. Something of every student’s weekly work ought to be good enough to come before the eyes of his friends and to command his friends’ respect. The student will find that his mates are keen critics; they will not respect poor work. But they are also fair and sympathetic critics, ready and willing to surrender on sight to really good work. A class as a whole will judge the compositions of each member disinterestedly and appreciatively.

Whatever is most characteristic of you, as different from other people; whatever gift is yours, of imagination, or reasoning power, or emotion, or humor,—all will find its fit expression in your writing. Every human being is particularly interested in something, is peculiarly apt at something. To find out what most appeals to one’s self in literature or in life, and to voice one’s ideas about it, is to know a keen pleasure. It is more. It is to be of some use to one’s fellows. As human beings we want other human beings to tell us the best that is in them. If a man has ideas we wish to share them—and wish him to learn how to express them that we may share them. If he hasn’t ideas, the effort to express what he considers such will convince both him and us of the fact. But then!—everybody has ideas.

CHAPTER II
ON READING ALOUD, AND ON SPELLING

Reading Aloud.—One of the quickest ways of learning to know good English, is oral reading. For him who would write the language it is therefore a great economy to learn to read it. It is an invaluable habit to read aloud every day some piece of prose with the finest feeling the reader can lend to it. In no other way can one so easily learn to notice and to remember new words. In no other way can one catch the infinitely varied rhythm of prose, and acquire a sense of how a good sentence rises gradually from the beginning and then descends in a cadence. This rise and fall of the sentence is not merely a matter of voice; it is a matter of thought as well. Similarly, the law of unity in the sentence, a law which prescribes what shall constitute a complete thought, is curiously bound up with the laws of the human voice. A clause that is too long to be pronounced in a single breath is usually clumsy in logic. In the next place, reading aloud helps one to spell correctly. Furthermore, it is the best means of detecting those useless repetitions which betray poverty of vocabulary.

Rousseau called accent the soul of language. If the student reads aloud from writers whose work was natural, unforced, original, he will gradually come to see his own ideas more clearly, feel his own feelings more keenly. Best of all, however, let him read his own work aloud, habitually. This will help him to see whether or not it is correct, natural, effective.

Spelling.[7]—Bad spelling should practically be a thing of the past for each student by the end of his first high school year. Every one can learn to spell, though some more rapidly than others.

Perhaps the chief reason why persons fail to spell correctly is that they do not read correctly. They have not trained their eyes to see what is on the page; they do not notice the syllables. It is a good practice to read every day a page or two very slowly, examining the words letter by letter. It is equally helpful to read the page aloud after examining it. In so doing give every vowel its true value; cut no syllable short that should be sounded distinctly.

After writing a theme, go through it, challenging the spelling. Do not hand in your work without having consulted your own dictionary. A bad speller may not be able to win in an oral spelling-match; but there is no reason why every page of his writing should not be perfect in orthography.

Into a little blank-book copy the correct form of every word you misspell. Each day read over carefully several words by syllables, and then write them from memory. The more frequently the hand writes the word in its correct form, the better; for the hand has a memory of its own, and the mere act of writing a given form tends to fix it in memory.

Make good spelling a matter of pride. Habitual bad spelling is a slovenly thing, a mark of illiteracy.

Spelling of Compound Words.—It may be well to call attention here to the use of the hyphen in compound words.

1. The hyphen is needed in a compound adjective, if there is any doubt as to the meaning when the hyphen is omitted. “Red-hot iron” may be a different idea from “red hot iron.”

2. Numbers like the following take the hyphen: seventy-three, seventy-third.

3. Many a word once compounded is now written solid, that is, as a single word: railroad, steamboat, anybody, anything, raindrop, forever, schoolboy, schoolhouse, schoolmate, schoolfellow (but school days, school teacher, school district); myself, yourself (but one’s self); childlike, lifelike. All these words but two, it will be seen, have a monosyllable for the first part. When in doubt as to whether or not a hyphen is needed, consult some special manual like Bigelow’s Handbook of Punctuation.

In all your writing, join distinctly syllables that you wish to have go together. Notice the absurd and misleading effect of such careless writing as this: “He was a glass maker and worked down at the glass house; his gal lant moust ache and his loud voice trai ned by blow ing glass mad e him wel come at the harvest home celebrations.”

Possessives.—The possessive singular of a monosyllable ending in s is regularly made by adding ’s, pronounced as an extra syllable. Thus: Jones’s; Briggs’s. For the polysyllable ending in s or the sound of s, merely the apostrophe is usually required, as in the plural. Thus: “Moses’ seat”; “conscience’ sake.”

Singulars and Plurals.—Spell aloud by syllables, and write from dictation the plurals of the following: Analysis, animalcule, antithesis, appendix, bandit, cherub, crisis, ellipsis, focus, fungus, genus, hypothesis, madame, memorandum, monsieur, mother-in-law, mussulman, nebula, oasis, parenthesis, radius, spoonful, synopsis.

What are the singulars—if singulars there are—of data, errata, magi, strata, vertebræ?

Written Exercise.—Below are given the correct form of certain words often misspelled by pupils in the first and second years of a secondary school. Without previous study write each word from dictation. Afterwards spell aloud by syllables each word that you misspelled in writing from dictation. Then write at least twenty times the correct form. The object is to acquire a kind of automatic correctness. In composing, one should have his mind free for thought; one should not have to think much more about spelling than about breathing.

Accompany; advisability; all right; anniversary; appearance; associated; bargained; buried; carriage; catarrh; cemetery; characteristic; commander; commotion; conceive; condescension; confidants; confidence; deceive; describe; descriptions; despair; difficulty; dilapidate; disappointed; disappeared; ecstasy; enemies; enemy; exaggerate; excrescence; existence; fascination; fatiguing; finally; further; grammar; handkerchief; hating; hemorrhage; immature; indispensable; irresistible; lightning; literary; living; loathsome; lose (the money); manœuvre; melancholy; minister; ministry; misshapen; necessary; niece; occurrence; offered; opportunity; outrageous; parallel; paralysis; peaceable; persuade; planned; poniard; primitive; principal (objection); principle (of action); privilege; promenading; pursuit; received; recommend; redoubtable; referred; representatives; rhythm; sacrilegious; secretary; seize; seized; separate; shoeing; siege; simile; stopped; striking; studied; superintendent; supposing; tenants; theatre; their (money); transferred; until; veil (on face); vengeance; very; village; wasn’t; whether; Roger de Coverley; George Eliot; Lord Macaulay; Michigan; Thackeray.

Word-Breaking.—At the end of a line do not divide (a) a monosyllable, (b) a short disyllable, such as real, doing. Divide polysyllables according to their etymological composition (to be found in the dictionary). Some authors discountenance beginning a second line with -ic, -al, -ing, -ly. These breakings are perhaps permissible, if the hyphen is made very distinct.

Written and Oral Exercise.—The instructor should ask each pupil in turn to recall, spell, and pronounce some word that doubles the letter c. The class should then be given a few minutes to write from memory as many of those given as they can recall. After this the pronouncing and spelling should proceed as long as possible, alternately with the writing. The lists should then be compared, and the pupil who has reproduced the largest number of words should be asked to spell and pronounce each one on his list. The other pupils should then be called upon to read from their own lists words that the first fails to give. Each should then be asked to add to his paper all words remembered by other members of the class, but not by him.[8]

Pronunciation.—A person who regards good usage in pronunciation and who articulates with unaffected nicety, is received at once as an educated man. It is interesting to see how often Lord Chesterfield, the best-mannered of Englishmen, insists that a gentleman is known by his accent. Chesterfield’s letters to his son are full of this idea. A sense of ease and security blesses him who knows how to sound every word that occurs to him as he talks; it is such a sense as a man feels when he is sure that his clothes fit him and are cut according to the accepted conventions. It is accordingly worth all the trouble involved, to form a habit of letting no word pass unchallenged as to its orthoëpy. Look it up in the dictionary, or in a good manual like Phyfe’s Seven Thousand Words often Mispronounced.

Exercise.—Below is given a short list of words frequently mispronounced. The instructor should pronounce the words, and ask the class to pronounce them.

• Abdomen,
• abject,
• absinthe,
• abstruse,
• acacia,
• accessory,
• acclimate,
• acoustics,
• actor,
• adagio,
• adult,
• advertisement,
• aëronaut,
• again,
• aged,
• aggrandize,
• aide-de-camp,
• allopathy,
• ally,
• alma mater,
• alternate (noun and adjective),
• amenable,
• apricot,
• arbutus,
• aroma,
• aspirant,
• bade,
• bellows,
• biography,
• bitumen,
• boatswain,
• bravado,
• bronchitis,
• canine,
• cant,
• can’t,
• cement (noun),
• cemetery,
• cerebrum,
• clematis,
• coadjutor,
• daunt,
• decade,
• devil,
• diphtheria,
• disdain,
• dislike,
• drama,
• duke,
• dynasty,
• enervate,
• evil,
• exhale,
• exhaust,
• extant,
• extempore,
• finale,
• finance,
• financier,
• garrulous,
• gaunt,
• genuine,
• gibber,
• gibbet,
• glacier,
• gratis,
• grimace,
• half,
• hegira,
• heinous,
• impious,
• jugular,
• lamentable,
• learned (adj.),
• legend,
• lever,
• literature,
• nape,
• nomad,
• opponent,
• pageant,
• patriot,
• patron,
• petal,
• precedence,
• precedent,
• quay,
• revolt,
• rise (noun),
• sacrifice,
• squalor,
• subtile,
• subtle,
• vagary,
• water,
• wrath,
• zoölogy.[9]

• Abélard,
• Abernethy,
• About (Edmond),
• Abydos,
• Acheron,
• Achitophel,
• Adonis,
• Ægean,
• Æolus,
• Æschylus,
• Afghanistan,
• Agincourt,
• Agnes,
• Aguilar (Grace),
• Aïda,
• Aix-la-Chapelle,
• Alaric,
• Alcantara,
• Alcuin,
• Aldebaran,
• Alighieri,
• Amphion,
• Andronicus,
• Antinous,
• Aquinas,
• Arab,
• Aral,
• Arundel,
• Athos,
• Avon,
• Aytoun,
• Bajazet,
• Balliol (college),
• Balmoral,
• Czerny,
• Latin,
• Laocoön,
• Medici,
• Mivart, (St. George),
• Orion,
• Paderewski,
• Pepys,
• Proserpine,
• Sienkiewicz,
• Southey,
• Thalia,
• Tschaikowsky,
• Volapük,
• Wagner,
• Ygdrasil.

CHAPTER III
A REVIEW OF PUNCTUATION

Punctuation is a system of disjunctive marks by which the eye and ear are helped to understand the sense of what is written. It is desirable to regard the subject as governed to a great extent by a few principles of common sense. The present chapter reviews those matters of capitalization and punctuation which seem to give most trouble to secondary school students.

Capitals.

1. Of course all proper nouns should begin with capital letters, and so should adjectives derived from them: examples, Russia, Russian, Jew, Jewish, Gentile, French, German. But the word christian is not always capitalized, especially if it is used vaguely as a synonym for good, righteous, etc.

2. We capitalize the words North, South, East, West, when, because we mean parts of the country, we use the article the before them. Thus, “The extreme West favors free silver.” But if we speak of direction merely, we do not capitalize: “Many people took Horace Greeley’s advice and went west.” Capitalize sections of the country, but not points of the compass.

3. Names of the seasons are not capitalized. Thus, though we write June, September, we also write spring, autumn.

4. In the salutation of a letter, the word Sir is capitalized, but not the preceding adjective unless that begins the salutation. Thus: “My dear Sir.” So in the leave-taking only the first word receives a capital. Thus: “Yours very truly.”

5. One valuable device is the use of the capital to introduce the semblance of a quotation, or what might be called a rhetorical quotation. Note: “I should answer, No.” Here the quotation No is merely rhetorical, or pretended, not real. Or this: “Let me give you a short rule for success: Trust in God and keep your powder dry.” Or this, from Longfellow: “Perhaps the greatest lesson which the lives of literary men teach us is told in a single word: Wait!”

6. In titles of books, essays, etc., the important words are capitalized. Thus: “My theme-title to-day was, A Description of a Person.”

7. Names of Deity begin with a capital, and many persons prefer to capitalize adjectives referring directly to Deity. Thus: “We crave Thy grace.” But this habit should not be carried so far as the capitalization of words like divine, omniscient, when these are not applied to Deity. Rather: “His goodness was divine.”

Written Exercise.—Copy the following, capitalizing where necessary:—

1. After going south last spring I understood better than before what is meant by the new south. The southerners have taken to manufacturing; the cotton is no longer all shipped away. Wealth has multiplied. Immigration has increased—the french are not the only foreigners now. There are colleges and even universities, that compare favorably with those of the north. Are the people wide-awake and ambitious? I answer, yes.

The Reasons for Punctuation.—In early days manuscripts were written “solid,” thus:—

MANUSCRIPTSWEREWRITTENSOLID.

It was found that both eye and ear demanded spaces and punctuation. The reader’s train of thought goes straight ahead from word to word until the punctuation mark warns it that there is danger of misunderstanding if it does not pause. The mark shows that the words which precede it are to be understood mentally as a group, and to be read orally as a group. If the thought is kept in mind that a punctuation mark is a sort of danger signal, many of the difficulties of the subject vanish. “Henry rose, and I with him laughed at the story we had heard.” If that comma be omitted between rose and and, what happens?

The Comma.

1. The comma, even more than other points, shows what the meaning of the sentence is; it should set off the parts of the thought. Nothing is easier than to spoil a minor unit of thought by breaking it in two with a comma. So far as may be, the modified subject of a sentence should not be cut into by a comma; neither should the modified predicate; nor should a subject and its predicate be separated any oftener by commas than is necessary. The following passage, written by a lad of fifteen from dictation, shows the minor units of thought divided by too many commas:—