Chapter VI: In the Use of Language

Never cease trying to make yourself understood. Learn to read and write before you are of age.

Never pronounce with your teeth clenched, through the nose, or by ripping up the sounds laboriously from the pit of the stomach. Speak gently, but with clarion-like distinctness.

Never squeal like a rat, grunt like a pig, or roar like a bull. Cultivate a pleasing voice.

Never smother your meaning out of sight with slang. “Soup should be seasoned, not red-hot,” says an old writer.

Never swear, anathematize, or fairly drip with profanity, especially in the presence of delicate ladies and small children. Undue emphasis often defeats itself.

Never indicate a mere passing surprise by such expressions as “Holy smoke!” “Gosh almighty!” “I’m teetotally dashed!” and the like. A mere lifting of the eyebrows, a convulsive gasp, or a wild, staggered look, while smiting the forehead with the fist, will be demonstrative enough.

Never say _sir_ to a bootblack and _old chap_ to a minister of the gospel in the same breath. Exercise tact.

Never say “No, mum” or “Yessum,” in addressing a lady, or “Not much, old hoss,” or “yezzur,” in speaking to a gentleman, even if these chance to be your parents or near relatives. “No, dad,” “Yes, mommy,” “No, granny,” “Yes, nunksy,” and so on, are more affectionate.

Never address a young lady as _Jen._, _Mol._, _Pol._, _Bet._, _Suke._, or by any other abbreviation of her given name. _Miss So-and-so_, or plain _miss_, is in better form.

Never address a young married lady as _old girl_, even if you were intimate with her before her marriage. Her husband may not apprehend your facetiousness.

Never mispronounce. Never say _purtect_ for _protect_, _yer_ for _you_, _tater_ for _potato_, _this ’ere_ for _this here_, _tommytoes_ for _tomatoes, oilent_ for _violent_, _aborgoyne_ for _aborigine_, or _busted_ for _bursted_. “Take her up tenderly, lift her with care.”

Never say _kin_ for _can_, _they’se_ for _they’re_, _feller_ for _fellow_, _gal_ for _girl_, _wuz_ for _was_, _whar_ for _where_, _thar_ for _there_, _har_ for _hair_, _hev_ for _have_, _wull_ for _will_, _cud_ for _could_, nor _wud_ for _would_. Never imagine that ignoramuses only fall into these errors. The greatest scholars in the world have been known to fairly revel in them when suffering from _delirium tremens_, or otherwise off their guard.

Never forget that _duty_ rhymes with _beauty_, not with _booty_, and that _morn_ doesn’t rhyme with _dawn_ at all--poetasters to the contrary notwithstanding. Even a gentleman of the world will not wholly despise the soft demands of rhythm.

Never say _idear_ for _idea_, nor _wahm_ for _warm_. The addition of the _r_ in the one case is as indefensible as its omission in the other.

Never say _pants_ for _trousers_, _vest_ for _waistcoat_, _boiled rag_ for _shirt_, nor _trotter cases_ for _boots_ and _shoes_. As a sole alternative, let your language be choice to fastidiousness.

Never allude to a _cuss_, meaning a _man_. Even _pure cussedness_ for _sheer contrariety_ is becoming the property of the common herd.

Never say “the old woman,” alluding to your wife. Is marriage of necessity the grave of respect?

Never speak of your father as “the governor,” “the old man,” “the money-bag,” and the like. Perhaps, he is a very good sort of person.

Never say _castor_ for hat, nor _gun-boats_ for _overshoes_, nor _duds_ for _clothes_ in general. A multiplication of these synonyms may be creditable to the invention, but is apt to be confusing.

Never fear to say you are _sick_, if you are so. Englishmen are _h’ill_, and Frenchmen are at liberty to be _indisposé_. We never say “an ill room,” or “an indisposed bed,” but “a sick room” or “a sick bed,” as the case may be.

Never ask if the railroad has come in, but if the train has come in. The track can no more come and go than can the station itself.

Never pile on the adjectives. A painting may be meritorious without being “stunning;” a handsome wall-paper is not necessarily “excruciating;” and you should hardly call a choice dish of ham and eggs “divine.” Let not your enthusiasm overleap itself.

Never say _naw_, _nixy_, _not by a blamed sight_, nor _nary a time_, for pure and simple _no_. Let the negative be swift, clear and decisive, even in declining a drink.

Never say _yis_, _yaw_ nor _ya-as_, for _yes_, unless you swear by the shamrock, the Bologna sausage, or the roast beef of old England.

Never say that you believe you’ll take root or come to anchor, when you intend sitting down, nor say “squatty-vous” to a friend in requesting him to take a seat.

Never, if you must use slang, fail to make a judicious choice of it. Who was it said, “Let me but make the slang of a people, and he who will make their laws?” But no matter; since there is plenty of it ready-made. Never attempt to add thereto, but be content to separate the wheat from the chaff, the fine gold from the dross.

Never speak of a bar-room as “a h’istery,” “a whisky ranch,” “a rum-hole,” or “a jig-water dispensary.” Plain old Anglo-Saxon “gin-mill” must hold its own against the innovations of storming time.

Never, in speaking confidentially to a young lady of her father’s tippling habits, refer to him as “an old soaker,” “a rum-head,” “a guzzler,” “a perambulating beer-keg,” or “a happy-go-lucky old swill-tub.” Far better to slur matters gently by recommending an inebriate asylum, or suggesting that the old gentleman be locked up with a whisky-barrel, with a fair chance of his drinking himself to death.

Never, at social gatherings, speak of elderly ladies as “old hens,” nor of the children of the house as “kids.” But a careful study of the very best society will soon make these pitfalls apparent to you.

Never, in entreating a young lady to sing, ask her if she can’t chirp or twitter a bit.

Never, after she has sung, and with obvious effort, playfully suggest that she has a bellows to mend. To gaze into her eyes lingeringly, and whisper that you did not mean to knock her endwise, would be more considerate and soothing.

Never say, _smeller_, _horn_, _bugle_, or _snoot_ for _nose_. Never say _peepers_ for _eyes_, _potato-trap_ for _mouth_, nor _bread-basket_ for _stomach_, at least not in the very highest circles. _Olfactor_, _optics_ and _paunch_ are a choice disguise for the Queen’s English, if that is the end in view.

Never say that a man was “howling mad” or “jumping crazy,” meaning that he was very angry, when you have such tempting morsels as “hopping mad,” “frothing at the mouth,” “mad as a hatter,” and “crazy as a bedbug” at your disposal.

Never say, “Well, I should smile,” meaning that you assent to something said or proposed, when honest old “You can bet your boots I will” is coyly nestling near at hand, craving a caress.

Never ask, “How in ---- am I going to do it?” when silvery “Do it youself, and be blowed!” may lend a mingled suavity and conciseness to the situation.

Never say, “busted in the snoot” for “thumped in the proboscis.” This is wholly inexcusable.

Never say “I _seed_” for “I _saw_,” “I _heerd_” for “I _heard_,” or “I _thunk_” for “I _thought_.” Notwithstanding that these gross mistakes may be in vogue among highly-educated men, newspaper editors and professional linguists, erect a standard of your own rather than follow in their unworthy lead.

Never say, “Him an’ me is goin’ to the circus,” when “He and I _are_ going to the circus” is meant. This scarcely perceptible inaccuracy brings many a conscientious student to grief.

Never say, “They is well, but I are not.” Painstaking discernment will enable you to make the correction.

Never say “Between you and I and the pump-handle,” meaning “Between you and me.”

Never speak of dinner as “grub,” “hash” or “trough-time,” nor refer to the dessert as “an after-clap.”

Never, if you have been on a spree, allude to it as a “boose,” a “toot,” a “twist,” a “rolling big drunk,” a “bust,” or a “bump,” when strong, sensible “budge,” “bender” and “jamboree” are peeping wistfully from the catalogue.

Never proclaim that you are “chocked to the throat,” meaning simply that you have dined plentifully.

Never be afraid to call a spade a “spade,” even if you have bet on hearts or diamonds.

Never, if intoxicated, say that you are “weaving the winding way,” “slopping over,” “six sheets in the wind,” or “screwed.” The latter is wholly British, and not yet adopted with us.

Never repeat worn-out saws and proverbs, such as “It’s a long turn that makes no lane,” “It’s an ill wind that blows your hat off,” and the like. Better use your own invention than harp forever on a moldered string.

Never, moreover, repeat much-used quotations, no matter how celebrated they may once have been. “We have met the enemy and we are theirs,” and “Whoever undertakes to shoot down the American flag, haul him on the spot,” may be patriotic, but they weary, they weary!

Never call a pretender a “cad,” when either “fraud” or “dead-beat” can safely give odds to the importation.

Never allude to your time-piece as a “cracker,” a “turnip” or a “ticker,” nor to your hands as “mawlies,” “fins” or “flippers,” nor to your fingers as “digits.” The use of any one of these slang terms indicates a want of higher culture.

Never, in referring to an enemy, say that you will “put a head on him bigger than a bushel-basket,” merely meaning that you will punch him.

Never say “peart” for clever.

Never say _oncommon_ for _uncommon_, nor comment upon a delicacy by saying that it is “licking good.”

Never say, in commenting upon a lady’s appearance, that she looked like a “fright,” like a “frump,” or like “a bundle of bones tied up with rags.” You have “dowdy” and “scarecrow” to fall back on.

Never wish aloud that a man may be hanged, drawn and quartered, simply because he owes you a dollar and a quarter. Fiendish resentment is not one of the shining characteristics of a true gentleman.

Never, when in doubt as to any particular form of expression, fail to consult this Hand Book. It is the one faithful lamp by which your steps may be guided.