is now the newspaper itself; bombast,
formerly a stuff of soft loose texture, used to
stuff out clothes, is now a pompous inflated
style; boor, a rustic, is now an ignorant ill-
mannered person; villain, a serf, is a wretch;
pagan, a villager, is a heathen; lumber, or
things formerly stowed away in a Lombard's or
banker's room, is now any kind of useless
accumulation—in America, timber; treacle was
anciently theriac, a remedy against poison, and
specially an electuary made of various drugs
pounded together and mixed with honey, now
it is only molasses, the syrup which runs from
sugar; stationer, or a man with a stall or
station for selling goods, is a man who sells
paper and pens, &c., only; romance, the Roman
language, is the kind of fictitious literature
originally written in that language; cheque, a
chequered cloth for counting money, is a piece
of paper representing money; and stool, a chair,
is now really a chair for the feet. These are
just a few instances of what might be done
towards making the study of grammar attractive
to the young, and in vesting nouns and verbs
with a human and therefore a living interest.
Another thing rarely taught at all, and never
taught well, is the art of correct and beautiful
speaking. How few people can read aloud
decently, or speak properly and pleasantly! As
for accent, the chances are as ninety-nine to a
hundred that it will be thrown in the wrong
place; as in that famous example of the clergyman
who, having to read how Saul after
solicitation was persuaded to eat, read it thus: "And
the woman had a fat calf in the house, and she
hasted and killed it, and took flour, and kneaded
it, and did bake unleavened bread thereof. And
she brought it before Saul and before his
servants, and they DID eat!" Children are never
taught to manage the voice in speaking. Singing
comes into the category of an art, and
therefore attention is paid to it, but speaking
is of the natural functions only, and for this
nature alone is made answerable. Few nations
speak so badly as the English. We all know
the clipping, drawling, mouth-shut murmur in
which the young man of the period speaks; we
all know the sharp, short, asthmatic, catchy
way in which some of the girls of the period
speak; or that deep chest-voice affected by the
more horsey kind; or that shrill head-voice
delighted in by the fast sort not specially horsey;
or that thin half-whining voice which some
of the more quiet and modest kind seem to
think part of their quietness, and essential to
their modesty. The great aim of most young
people seems to be to clip off their words as
many letters and syllables as they possibly can,
and to make what remains as indistinct as they
can. It seems as if the horror of trouble which
is infesting a certain section of our young
people had extended to the labours of the lips;
and that the neat and careful formation of
words was something quite beyond the ordinary
energies of life. The first thing which strikes
all English people who have ears and keen
perception of sounds, on returning from the
Continent, is the lazy, drawling, slovenly manner
of speech current among our countrymen and
countrywomen. Not a letter has its due value,
and none of the nicer shades of intonation are
given. Those subtle distinctions which are so
finely marked in the French manner of speech are
with us ignored altogether; and we give such
words as witch and which, where and wear, rain
and reign, without the faintest sound of difference;
while we clip cousin to coz'n, clothes to
clo's, preference to pref'rence, slur often into
orfen, put h's after s's or soft z's, muddle up
fortune into fortshun, and figure into figgur.
Besides this grave delinquency in pronunciation,
we often speak ungrammatically in our
current daily conversation. How many stumble
hopelessly over the traps of I and me; and
how many get entangled in the difficulties
of the past tense and the past participle!
"That is between you and I only," is a phrase
by no means rarely heard; "it is me," is even
less rare. A very common error lies in taking
the plural verb immediately after the plural
noun, though the noun with which it rightly
agrees is in the singular. "One after another
of my children have gone;" "the last of his
enemies have died;" while, even in writing,
such horrible English as "neither he nor she
were there," is constantly to be met with.
It is very much to be regretted that
language has been made of little account in our
English education; that we have no standard
of excellence, either for grammar or
pronunciation; and that we take no pains with the
organ if even we had this standard as our rule.
Schools, where deportment and dancing, and
how to get into a carriage gracefully, and how
to come into a room with an air, are taught,
leave the voice and daily speech alone, trusting
solely to the power of imitation for a correct
method of pronunciation and the avoidance of
any gross mistakes in grammar, but never
making the management or modulation of the
voice of any real account, nor holding the art
of conversation as an art useful to be learned
and necessary to be studied, before it can be
practised. It would be a good thing if the
teachers of our young people could and would
take in hand the art of speaking: both with
regard to the management of the voice and the
carefulness of conversational grammar, as well
as with regard to conversation itself.
DOGS WE HAVE HAD.
A VERY yellow, wiry, not to say stubbly
terrier of the middle size, with ears cropped to
the pattern that suggests the sharp points of
the old-fashioned, now exploded "gills;" with
iron-grey whiskers, and a general air of watchful
inquiry for rats; brought back with a
string round her, by a ragged boy. This is
Vixen the First, originally purchased in open
market, and who, after a day's absence, has
been brought home. Her ransom costs half-
a-crown. Her first introduction to the family
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