CHAPTER IX
SOURCES OF THE ENGLISH VOCABULARY

The English Vocabulary.—The enormous treasure of English speech contains something like 200,000 words.[33] Most of these were once foreigners to the language. To tell how each came to be English would be like telling the personal romances of all the foreign-born citizens of these United States.

England was once inhabited by Celts, the ancestors of the Scotch, Welsh, and Irish. The Romans under Cæsar possessed the island, and for five hundred years held the country, but they left us, from this period of their occupation, only half a dozen words: the names of the camp (castra), the paved road (strata), the settlement (colonia), the trench (fossa), the harbor (portus), the rampart (vallum). These words remain chiefly in the names of places. A sharp eye sees them in Lancaster, Leicester, Manchester, etc.; Stratford, street, etc.; Lincoln, etc.; Fossway, etc.; Portsmouth, etc.; wall, bailey, bailiff (these three words being derived from vallum).

In the fifth century, however, Teutonic tribes began to cross the sea and invade the land. The Celts were driven north and west into the mountains, and the newcomers stayed permanently. Although these Teutons—the Anglo-Saxons—called the Celts Welsh, that is, strangers, they took up a good many of the strangers’ words. They called many a river of the land Avon, water, as the Celts had done,—there are fourteen Avons to-day,—and they kept many such words as inch, an island (in Inchcape), and kill, a church (in Kildare). Indeed, for centuries the Celts kept on lending words to the English: bargain, bodkin, brogue, clan, crag, dagger, glen, gown, mitten, rogue, whiskey, are familiar examples of these permanent loans.

The Old English language itself was a Germanic dialect. Like Latin and German, it was inflected,—a fact that we see to-day in the presence of such forms as him, the old dative case for he. The inflectional endings nearly all disappeared before Shakespeare’s time. The vocabulary of this Old English has given us most of the words that we use as children. For example, household names—home, friends, father, mother, etc.; names of many emotions—gladness, sorrow, love, hate, fear, etc.; names of most objects in the landscape—tree, bush, stone, hill, woods, stream, sun, moon, etc.; common names of animals—horse, cow, dog, cat, etc.; parts of the body—head, eye, etc. Our household proverbs are in these Anglo-Saxon words. “Fast bind, fast find,” is an example of a thousand similar saws that embody the practical common sense of the people. The loves and hates, the hopes and fears, the wit and rude wisdom of our forefathers, have gone into Saxon words. These are not merely the words of childhood; in hours of deep feeling, in moments when the natural disposition demands expression, the grown man speaks in Saxon. These strong, forcible old words are to be prized and cherished as carefully as are those of less emotional suggestion,—the exact, discriminative Latin words.

In the ninth and tenth centuries the Norse vikings, who sailed everywhere, sailed also to England, and for a time got the upper hand of the Saxons. From 1013 to 1042 there were Scandinavian kings on the English throne. But these Norse were not able to impose much of their own language upon the country. Their settlements were named in Norse, and the word by, a town, remains in hundreds of such places, as Whitby, the white town (from the white cliffs). From these great seamen our Saxon ancestors learned some new nautical dialect—words like bow, bowline, crew, harbor, hawser, lee, stern.

In 1066 the Normans conquered the land. These were Frenchmen whose fathers had been Norse. They brought the French language into their English court, and for two or three hundred years there were two languages in England,—French on the lips of the nobles, Saxon on the lips of the peasants. But the Saxon race was too strong to remain an underling. Gradually it mingled with the Norman race, picking up hundreds, even thousands of French words from the latter, but keeping its own ways of putting words together.

By 1400, when Chaucer died, there was a new English language, almost as much French as Saxon in vocabulary, but far less French than Saxon in grammar. Since French is largely derived from Latin, it is clear that the total Latin element in the vocabulary was already very great.

After Chaucer there came a general awakening of interest in ancient civilization; and in the Revival of Learning a great many words were adopted directly from Latin and Greek. In the sixteenth century followed the Renaissance of literature, art, and the sciences. This made its way to England from Italy, and naturally Englishmen caught up many new words from Italians. For example: alert, bankrupt, brigade, bust, cameo, caricature, cascade, domino, fresco, granite, influenza, malaria, niche, oratorio, pianoforte, ruffian, studio, tirade, umbrella, vista. The Spaniards, too, whom Englishmen met in those days on the sea and at courts, have lent our language such words as barricade, bravado, cigar, desperado, flotilla, guerilla, merino, mosquito, mulatto, renegade, sherry, tornado, vanilla.

The bold English seamen of the sixteenth century sailed back even from America with new things and new names—like tobacco. In the next century the commerce which followed hard upon the voyages of discovery was the means of bringing to the British island many new words. Here it may be said that the Dutch, who have rivalled the English in commerce, and who have taught the English some tricks of seamanship,—as did the vikings before them,—are represented in English by words like ballast, boom, boor, skipper, sloop, smack, trigger, yacht. English merchantmen of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries sailed to ports Oriental and Occidental. Returning, they brought from Africa canaries and gorillas, with the words canary and gorilla, and told of oases; from Arabia they fetched such names as admiral, alcohol, alcove, alkali, arsenal, azure, chemistry, coffee, cotton, lute, magazine, nabob, naphtha, sherbet, sofa, syrup, zenith; indeed, some of these words had got into English through earlier English travellers—chiefly crusaders. English sailors and travellers have brought from China silk, tea, etc.; from India, banyan, calico, mullagatawny, musk, punch, sugar, thug, etc.; from Malayan ports, bantam, cockatoo, gong, rattan, sago, etc.; from Persia, awning, caravan, chess, hazard, horde, lemon, orange, paradise, sash, shawl, etc. Few are the languages from which a British ear has not caught and kept a new term.

In America we have many Indian names of places and things. We have hominy, moose, opossum, raccoon, toboggan, and other words from North American tribes. Mexico gave us chocolate, tomato, etc.; the West Indies, potato, canoe, hurricane; South America, alpaca, quinine, tapioca, etc.

In the present century, science, both practical and pure, has discovered thousands of facts and invented thousands of contrivances. Consequently thousands of words have been coined, mostly from Greek, to name modern inventions and the facts of science. A recent dictionary found it necessary to codify 4000 technical terms that had sprung up within the last few years.

Anglo-Saxon Prefixes and Suffixes.—The following prefixes are Anglo-Saxon. Think of words made with each.

Similarly think of words made with each of the following noun suffixes and explain the force of each suffix.

Think of words made with the following adjective suffixes.

Think of words made with the following adverb suffixes.

The Latin Element.—The Latin element is numerically the larger part of the language. It is therefore impossible to know well the English vocabulary except by knowing a considerable part of the Latin language. Whether our Latin words come directly through the ancient classics, or through the Romance tongues, such as French, Italian, and Spanish, to know their full force one must know the original meaning of them, as used by the ancient race of world-conquerors. Every instructor in English watches with keen interest the progress made by his students in their Latin studies. Of course, the mere knowledge that a given word is derived from a given Latin word does not necessarily give the student practical command of it in his writing; but usually such knowledge does help to a better understanding of the meaning the word has to-day, and so tends both to fix it in memory and to insure exact use of it.

Latin Words transferred to English.—Some Latin words have been transferred bodily into English. Discuss with the instructor the derivation of the present meanings of the following:—

Latin Prefixes and Suffixes.—Recall English words having the following prefixes, and explain the effect of the prefix on each.

Recall words having the following Latin or Latin-French suffixes, and explain each in terms of the meaning of the suffix.

Latin Roots in English.—Below are listed a few of the many Latin words that have given us English words. Recall as many as possible of their derivatives, and define each in terms of the original meaning. Thus acer, sharp, gives us acrimony, sharpness, acrid, sour. Some member of the class may know that through the French it gives us vinegar, sharp wine. Make notes in your note-book of any derivatives that are new to you. Ædes, a building; æquus, equal; ager, a field; agere, to do; alere, to nourish—perfect participle altus, nourished, therefore high; amare, to love; anima, life; animus, mind; annus, a year; aqua, water; arcus, a bow; ardere (pf. ptc. arsus), to burn; audire, to hear; augere (pf. ptc. auctus), to increase; brevis, brief; cadere (pf. ptc. casus), to fall; candere, to shine; capere, to take; caput, a head; cavus, hollow; cernere (pf. ptc. cretus), to distinguish; clarus, clear; cor, heart; corona, crown; credere, to believe; crescere (pf. ptc. cretus), to grow; crudus, raw; cura, care; deus, god; dicere, to say; docere, to teach; dominus, lord (Fr. damsel, dame, madame); domus, a house; ducere, to lead; errare, to wander; facere, to make; filum, a thread; finis, the end; flos, a flower; frangere (stems, frag, fract), to break; fortis, strong; fundere, to pour; gradus, a step; gravis, heavy; homo, a man; imperare, to command; jus, right; legere (lect), to read; ligo, to bind; litera, a letter; loqui, to speak; lumen, light; luna, the moon; magnus, great; manus, a hand; maturus, ripe; mittere (missere), to send; mors, death; novus, new; nox, night; omnis, all; ordo, order; pascere (pf. ptc. pastus), to feed; pati (pf. ptc. passus), to suffer; petere, to seek; portare, to carry; radix, a root; regere (pf. ptc. rectus), to rule; scire, to know; sequi (pf. ptc. secutus), to follow; socius, a companion; spirare, to breathe; tangere, to touch; texere, to weave; vanus, empty; videre, to see; vincere (pf. ptc. victus), to conquer; vulgus, the crowd.

Greek Roots in English.—Recall English words made from the following Greek roots, and explain each. Make notes in your note-book of those derivatives that are new to you. Anthropos, a man; aster, astron, a star; autos, self; biblos, a book; bios, life; deka, ten; dokein, to think; dunamis, power; eu, well; ge, the earth; graphein, to write; hemi, half; hippos, a horse; homos, the same; kuklos, a circle; monos, alone; orthos, right; pan, all; petra, a rock; philein, to love; phone, a sound; poiein, to make;[34] skopein, to see; sophia, wisdom; tele, distant; theos, a god.

Curious Words.—Look up and copy into your note-book the origin of the following words. Assassin, august, dahlia, dunce, epicure, galvanic, guillotine, hermetically, January, jovial, July, lynch, March, mentor, panic, phaeton, quixotic, stentorian, tantalize, tawdry. Bayonet, bedlam, copper, damask, dollar, gasconade, gipsy, laconic, lumber, meander, milliner, palace, utopian. Abominate, adieu, amethyst, apothecary, beldam, capricious, cemetery, cheap, checkmate, cobalt, curmudgeon, dainty, daisy, dismal, emolument, salary, fanatic, gentleman, heretic, inculcate, infant, intoxicated, maidenhair (fern), maxim, nausea, onyx, parlor, Porte (the Sublime Porte), pupil, silly, sincere, tariff, trump (card). Atonement, belfry, brimstone, carouse, counterpane, coward, crayfish, dandelion, dirge, drawing-room, easel, gospel-grove, harbinger, Jerusalem artichoke, line (garments), licorice, nostril, porpoise, quinsy, squirrel, summerset, surgeon, thorough, treacle, trifle, wassail, whole.

Written Exercise.—Examine the following passages separately. Classify all the words in two columns, one giving those of Saxon derivation, the other those of Latin derivation. Consult the dictionary in case of doubt. Then compare the English of Dr. Johnson with that of Dr. Blackmore. The former is writing in his own person as an eighteenth century scholar; the latter in the person of the stout John Ridd, a seventeenth century youth.

CHAPTER X
THE MASTERY OF A WRITING VOCABULARY

Ideas without Words.—It is possible to have ideas without having words in which to express them. Miss Helen Keller[35] had plenty of ideas before any one taught her the words for them. The painter trains himself to express ideas in paint; the sculptor, in stone. The inventor expresses ideas in machinery. Because words however are the commonest means of expression, it is desirable that one should know as many as possible. A person who has ideas will indeed be able to communicate them in some rough-and-ready form of speech; will use a poor word, if he cannot think of a good one, and by hook or crook will manage to be understood. But an unread, untrained man trying to communicate some fine shade of thought is commonly a sorry sight, no matter how bright his mind may be.

Words without Ideas.—On the other hand, it is possible to know words without knowing what they stand for. Some persons of quick verbal memory pick up phrases readily, and utter them glibly, with little sense of their meaning. Gratiano, of Shakespeare’s drama, “spoke an infinite deal of nothing, more than any man in Venice.” Such persons as he have given ground for the sarcastic remark that language is the art of concealing thought. The use of meaningless phrases, and the use of words without a care to their exact meaning, is one danger that besets the student of composition. The boy who fluently remarks that he recently lost his little saturnine (meaning canine, i.e. dog); the lady, Mrs. Malaprop, who walks through Sheridan’s play, saying, “You go first, and we’ll precede you”; the man, Launcelot Gobbo, who enlivens The Merchant of Venice with such remarks as that “his suit is impertinent to himself,”—these people need a book of synonyms. Unless a writer is sure that he knows definitely the meaning of the word that his pen is about to trace, he would much better stay his hand.

Ideas and Words.—Though one mind may have ideas but lack their names, and though another may have the names but lack the notions for which they stand, yet both ideas and words are indispensable to the writer. A general recipe for getting ideas is hardly easier to give than a recipe for being great, or for having blue eyes, or for being liked by every one. Ideas are had through new experiences, new acquaintanceships, new sights; through hard thinking, through hard reading,—in short, through living. Mr. Henry James, the eminent novelist, gives a direction for being a good novelist: Try to be one of those people on whom nothing is lost. The student who is eager to know as much as possible of what is worth knowing in life, and is devoured with curiosity to learn the name of everything, is sure to acquire both new ideas and new words.[36]

It is nevertheless not to be denied that to some extent ideas can be bred by the study of the mere words. How true this is appears when it is remembered that words are the embalmed ideas of men. A study of such a list as the Curious Words given in the preceding chapter cannot but add to the student’s mental stores. Thackeray, it is said, used to read the dictionary before he composed. It may be presumed that the habit used not merely to acquaint him with new words, but to arouse his mind and set it to fashioning new thoughts. The attempt to discriminate between words that mean nearly, not quite, the same thing, results in a distinct gain in thought, and in power of thought. It is probable that no two words have exactly the same sense; to discover the difference enriches the discoverer’s store of knowledge, and develops one of the highest mental powers. A command of words not merely affords relief from the pain of dumbness, not merely loosens the tongue; it aids reasoning. Thinking proceeds more securely the moment a hazy notion is given definite shape in the right word. Indeed, the mere search for the right word is always a means of clearing up the thought. To be tortured in mind by inability to find the unique phrase, sometimes means a mere fault in verbal memory; as often, or oftener, it is due to a vagueness of thinking.

By way of summary, then, acquisition of ideas furthers acquisition of words, and vice versâ. To be poor in ideas, or to be poor in language,—either means failure for a writer.

The Two Vocabularies.—Of all the 200,000 words in our language, probably no one man would understand one-half if he saw them, undefined, in a dictionary. Just how large a man’s reading vocabulary can be is not known. Professor Holden, the astronomer, found that his own was about 33,000 words. It is therefore likely that 25,000 is not an unusual number for an educated person to understand. But the reading or passive vocabulary is very different in size from the writing or active vocabulary. To remember the sense of a word when it is seen is far less difficult than to recall the word whenever its meaning rises dimly in the mind. A little child has but one set of words—an active vocabulary; it makes oral use of all the expressions it knows. But the older person reads so much that he comes to recognize myriads of words that rarely rise to his lips or find their way to his pen. There is inevitably therefore a widening gap between the expressions he can recognize and those he can employ. That this should be so is in part desirable. A person of fourteen or sixteen or eighteen must, if he reads carefully, learn to understand many expressions that are too bookish for his own uses. The word temerarious, for instance, is needed once where its unpretentious cousin, rash, is needed a score of times. With some words the young writer needs only a speaking acquaintance; others are good friends that, in Hamlet’s phrase, he should buckle to his soul with hoops of steel. But it is safe to say that if a person can transfer some part of his reading vocabulary into his writing vocabulary, he will be much benefited by so doing. There is probably no reason why a freshman should not enter college master of a writing vocabulary of 5000 words, and a reading vocabulary of 15,000. Shakespeare’s works contain about 15,000 different words, the King James version of the Bible fewer than 6000. Again, each person uses the same words with many different meanings. Every great writer employs the same words in many figurative senses; the fact is perhaps the most striking proof of his literary power. If Shakespeare’s vocabulary were reckoned as including these figurative meanings, it would shoot up to a wonderful figure.

“It would be absurd,” says Professor A. S. Hill, with characteristic good sense, “for a boy to have the desirableness of enlarging his vocabulary constantly on his mind; but if he avails himself of his opportunities, in the school-room or out of it, he will be surprised to find how rapidly his vocabulary grows.” Doubtless however the matter must receive some definite attention, if the best results are to be secured. In the rest of this chapter particular methods of acquiring new words and senses of words will be considered.

A Vocabulary Book.—It will be found helpful to buy a strong blank-book of convenient size, and to copy into this every new word that seems to the student available for his writing; not every new word he meets, for some will impress him as too bookish or pedantic, but those which appear to express happily some idea that has lain unnamed in his mind.

Figurative Uses of Common Words.—A writer owes it to himself and to the reader to get all the service he legitimately can out of common words, because in the end so doing spares both persons a vast deal of unnecessary labor. Examine a handful of the well-worn counters of speech,—such words as poor, heavy, thin, best, full, manner, sense, deep, sweet. They are like dull pebbles brought home from the beach. But dip them back into the brine of a good book, and they become gems. The words specified above appear in a paragraph of Mr. W. D. Howells: “I followed Irving, too, in my later reading, but at haphazard, and with other authors at the same time. I did my poor best to be amused by his Knickerbocker History of New York, because my father liked it so much, but secretly I found it heavy; and a few years ago when I went carefully through it again, I could not laugh. Even as a boy I found some other things of his up-hill work. There was the beautiful manner, but the thought seemed thin; and I do not remember having been much amused by Bracebridge Hall, though I read it devoutly, and with a full sense that it would be very comme il faut to like it. But I did like the life of Goldsmith; I liked it a great deal better than the more authoritative life by Forster, and I think there is a deeper and sweeter sense of Goldsmith in it.”[37]

Observe the various duties that the plainest words were persuaded into doing for Shakespeare. With him the word old applies to widely different things: Old arms, old beard, old limbs, old eyes, old bones, old feet, old heart, old wrinkles, old wit, old care, old woe, old hate, old custom, old days. What does each of these phrases mean? He is fond of contrasting simple words; thus, “He’ll take his old course in a country new.”

Note how many abstract ideas in Shakespeare are contented with the word heavy, which ordinary people apply merely to coal, lead, and such uninspiring commodities. Heavy accent, heavy news, heavy sin, heavy act, heavy task, heavy day, heavy hour, heavy gait, heavy leave, heavy message, heavy summons. Explain what each means.[38]

Similarly there are light gifts, light behavior, light heart, light loss, light of foot, light wings, light foam. Another drudge of a word, thick, learns new and pleasanter tasks of the great poet. Thick sight, thick perils, thick in their thoughts, thick sighs, thick slumber. Explain each of these phrases. Opposed to thick is thin: thin air, thin drink, thin and slender pittance. These are the things that Shakespeare calls high: high deeds, high descent, high desert, high designs, high disgrace, high exploits, high feats, high good trim, high heaven, high hope, high perfection, high resolve, high reward. One more word, golden. Lesser poets would apply it to physical objects. Shakespeare, too, speaks of the sun “Kissing with golden face the meadows green,” and of “This majestical roof fretted with golden fire.” But elsewhere he manages to apply the adjective to things that cannot so directly be called golden. Thus: “A golden mind stoops not to shows of dross.” “... wear a golden sorrow.” “Golden lads and girls all must, As chimney sweepers, come to dust.” “Nestor’s golden words.” Explain each of these uses.

Of course many of these figurative expressions are too poetical by far for the prose of high school students. Nevertheless, many others would be appropriate in the manuscript of any person,—for instance, high designs, high deeds, high exploits, high resolve. Such uses as these can be cultivated to the enrichment of the vocabulary.

Written Exercise.[39]—Each of the following adjectives applies primarily to physical objects, that can be seen, or heard, or touched, or tasted. But each is often raised to a higher use, being made to name some quality of character, or some other abstract idea. Take the adjectives one by one, and under each write in class as many abstract words as you think can properly be modified by the given adjective. Thus the adjective fine, which is used of such physical objects as sand, cloth, particles, may also apply to courage, sense of honor, presence, phrases, words, deeds.

1. Sweet. 2. Sour. 3. Bitter. 4. Soft. 5. Hard. 6. Smooth. 7. Rough. 8. Delicious. 9. Insipid. 10. Cold. 11. Freezing. 12. Icy. 13. Burning. 14. Chilly. 15. Blue. 16. White. 17. Black. 18. Gray. 19. Brown. 20. Green. 21. Dark. 22. Shadowy. 23. Misty. 24. Cloudy. 25. Windy. 26. Stormy. 27. Transparent. 28. Blunt. 29. Sharp. 30. Keen. 31. Dull. 32. Fragrant. 33. Malodorous. 34. Shining. 35. Beaming. 36. Glowing. 37. Glittering. 38. Blazing. 39. Hazy. 40. Brilliant. 41. Muddy. 42. Rippling.

The Value of Careful Reading.—A writer must perhaps be as dependent on books for his vocabulary as on any other one source. Yet it is possible to read a great deal without absorbing many new expressions. To gain new words and new ideas, the student must compel himself to read slowly. Impatient to hurry on and learn how the tale or poem ends, many a youth is accustomed to read so rapidly as to miss the best part of what the author is trying to say. Thoughts cannot be read so rapidly as words. To get at the thoughts and really to retain the valuable expressions, the student must scrutinize and ponder as he reads. Each word must be thoroughly understood; its exact value in the given sentence must be grasped. It will not do to draft off a long list of new expressions into the note-book, and then investigate the meaning of each after the connection in which each was used has been forgotten. Usually the best way is to look up the meaning when the word is come upon. This is always the best way when a passage is being read with a view to increasing one’s vocabulary. When a tale or poem or essay is being read for its general theme, or for its literary construction, it is often desirable to underline each new word, leaving the meaning to be investigated a little later. In finding the value of the word in its sentence, the student is often little aided by the dictionary. Imagination and reasoning must sometimes be called into play before the definition can be made to apply. The dictionary—particularly the abridged dictionary—is not a magic book, ready to explain every delicate shading that a great author gives a word in a particular connection.

In reading silently it is due the author to read with as much expression as if one were pronouncing the words aloud. One should mentally give every word and phrase its proper accent, should feel the value of every punctuation mark. The force of such a passage as the following, from Carlyle, will be lost unless the reader puts the emphasis in exactly the right places.

Literature is full of words descriptive of things that all have seen or heard. We render a service to the memory if in reading we linger long enough to call up the colors, shapes, motions, sounds, that are suggested by the text. Some persons recall sights more easily than sounds, some recall sounds more easily than sights; some can remember motions more easily than either colors, shapes, or sounds. It is therefore good training for the word-memory if we endeavor to recall all kinds of sense impressions. Read the following passage slowly, imagining the sights, motions, and sensations of touch, that are suggested.

Imagine as vividly as possible each sound and other physical sensation suggested by the following selection, from the book just quoted:—

What do you see mentally, when you read the following?

The value of minute and thoughtful reading has been set forth by John Ruskin, in his Sesame and Lilies, a book well worth reading, if one is willing to take in good part the earnest, somewhat dogmatic tone which Ruskin so often uses. The oft-quoted passage in which he illustrates his idea of how a poem should be read, is given below. The student who every day reads a few pages as conscientiously as Ruskin would have him, will find his command of words rapidly increasing, and his power of thought increasing likewise.

[Ruskin goes on to discuss other expressions with the same minuteness.]

Contributions from Other Studies.—In acquiring any new science or art one learns many new terms, some of which are not too technical for use in themes. For that matter, every exercise written in any subject cannot help being to some extent an exercise in English. The vocabulary book should receive contributions from every line of the student’s work.

Translation.—There is no better means of making the memory yield up the words which it has formerly caught, than translation. Professor A. S. Hill quotes the reported words of Rufus Choate: “Translation should be pursued to bring to mind and to employ all the words you already own, and to tax and torment invention and discovery and the very deepest memory for additional, rich, and admirably expressive words.”[40] Every lesson in translating is a lesson in self-expression. Professor Carpenter testifies[41] that the Latin-trained boys entering scientific schools are remarkably superior in power of expression to those not so trained; and his testimony is confirmed by the experience of many other teachers.

Memorizing of Literature.—To the habit of memorizing, many a person is indebted not merely for high thoughts that cheer hours of solitude and that stimulate his own thinking, but for command of words. The degree to which the language of modern writers is derived from a few great authors is startling. Shakespeare’s phrases are a part of the tissue of every man’s speech to-day. Such writers as Charles Lamb bear Shakespeare’s mark on every page. The language of the King James version of the Bible is echoed in modern English prose and poetry. It formed styles so unlike as those of Bunyan, Ruskin, and Abraham Lincoln. Most teachers would declare that a habit of learning Scripture by heart is of incalculable value to a student’s English. In the Authorized Version, and to almost as great an extent in the Revised Version, the Anglo-Saxon element and the Latin are both present in marvellous effectiveness.[42]

It is clear that whatever help one’s writing is to receive from memorizing will come naturally through one’s study of literature. But so many of the strongest words in the language, particularly the Saxon words, have been treasured up in the homely sayings of the people, that I have ventured to suggest a list of proverbs for memorizing. Just how many of these it may be advisable for a given pupil to retain in mind is a matter to be decided by the instructor. Certainly each student will do well to learn a score of those that seem to him best worth remembering. Each saying preserves some fine word in some natural context, a fact that will make the word far easier to recall than it would be if learned as an isolated term. Not more than ten or fifteen minutes a day ought to be given to the memorizing.

ENGLISH PROVERBS[43]