Chapter XII: Part I: How to Write a Composition (5)

He who begins a little late in the morning will have to drive
fast, will be constantly in a fever, and will scarcely overtake
his business at night; whereas he who rises in proper time can
enjoy the luxury of pursuing his calling with regularity, ending
his work in fit season, and gaining a little portion of leisure.

Late in the morning may mean puffing and blowing all the day
long, whereas an early hour will make the pace an easy one. This
is worth a man’s considering. Much evil comes of hurry, and hurry
is the child of unpunctuality.

We once knew a brother whom we named “the late Mr. S⸺,” because
he never came in time. A certain tart gentleman, who had been
irritated by this brother’s unpunctuality, said that the sooner
that name was literally true the better for the temper of those
who had to wait for him. Many a man would much rather be fined
than be kept waiting. If a man _must_ injure me, let him rather
plunder me of my cash than of my time.

To keep a busy man waiting is an act of impudent robbery, and
is also a constructive insult. It may not be so intended, but
certainly if a man has proper respect for his friend, he will
know the value of his time, and will not cause him to waste
it. There is a cool contempt in unpunctuality, for it as good
as says: “Let the fellow wait; who is he that I should keep my
appointment with him?”

In this world, matters are so linked together that you cannot
disarrange one without throwing others out of gear; if one
business is put out of time, another is delayed by the same
means. The other day we were traveling to the Riviera, and the
train after leaving Paris was detained for an hour and a half.
This was bad enough, but the result was worse, for when we
reached Marseilles the connecting train had gone, and we were not
only detained for a considerable time, but were forced to proceed
by a slow train, and so reached our destination six hours later
than we ought to have done. All the subsequent delay was caused
through the first stoppage.

A merchant once said to us: “A. B. is a good fellow in many
respects, but he is so frightfully slow that we cannot retain
him in our office, because, as all the clerks work into each
other’s hands, his delays are multiplied enormously, and cause
intolerable inconvenience. He is a hindrance to the whole system,
and he had better go where he can work alone.”

The worst of it is that we cannot send unpunctual people where
they can work alone. To whom or whither should they go? We cannot
rig out a hermitage for each one, or that would be a great
deliverance. If they prepared their own dinners, it would not
matter that they dropped in after every dish had become cold. If
they preached sermons to themselves, and had no other audience,
it would not signify that they began consistently seven minutes
behind the published hour. If they were their own scholars, and
taught themselves, it would be of no consequence if the pupil sat
waiting for his teacher for twenty minutes.

As it is, we in this world cannot get away from the unpunctual,
nor get them away from us, and therefore we are obliged to put up
with them; but we should like them to know that they are a gross
nuisance, and a frequent cause of sin, through irritating the
tempers of those who cannot afford to squander time as they do.

If this should meet the eye of any gentleman who has almost
forgotten the meaning of the word “punctuality,” we earnestly
advise him to try and be henceforth five minutes _too soon_ for
every appointment, and then perhaps he will gradually subside
into the little great virtue which we here recommend.

Could not some good genius get up a Punctuality Association,
every member to wear a chronometer set to correct time, and to
keep appointments by the minute-hand? Pledges should be issued,
to be signed by all sluggish persons who can summon up sufficient
resolution totally to abstain from being behind time in church or
chapel, or on committee, or at dinner, or in coming home from the
office in the evening. Ladies eligible as members upon signing a
special pledge to keep nobody waiting while they run upstairs to
pop on their bonnets. How much of sinful temper would be spared,
and how much of time saved, we cannot venture to guess. Try it.

JOHN PLOUGHMAN’S TALK ON HOME.

BY C. H. SPURGEON.

The famous London minister wrote a book entitled, “John Ploughman’s Talk.” His object was to express plain and homely truths in a quaint, humorous way, and thus gain the attention of common people whose reading is confined mostly to murder and divorce cases in newspapers. The enjoyment of the public in reading Mr. Spurgeon’s pithy sayings was evinced by the enormous sale of the book. The extract here given is a fair specimen of its unique style.

That word _home_ always sounds like poetry to me. It rings like
a peal of bells at a wedding, only more soft and sweet, and it
chimes deeper into the ears of my heart. It does not matter
whether it means thatched cottage or manor-house, home is home,
be it ever so homely, and there’s no place on earth like it.
Green grow the houseleek on the roof forever, and let the moss
flourish on the thatch.

Sweetly the sparrows chirrup and the swallows twitter around the
chosen spot which is my joy and my rest. Every bird loves its
own nest; the owl thinks the old ruins the fairest spot under
the moon, and the fox is of opinion that his hole in the hill
is remarkably cozy. When my master’s nag knows that his head is
towards home he wants no whip, but thinks it best to put on all
steam; and I am always of the same mind, for the way home, to
me, is the best bit of road in the country. I like to see the
smoke out of my own chimney better than the fire on another man’s
hearth; there’s something so beautiful in the way in which it
curls up among the trees.

Cold potatoes on my own table taste better than roast meat at my
neighbor’s, and the honeysuckle at my own door is the sweetest I
ever smell. When you are out, friends do their best, but still it
is not home. “Make yourself at home,” they say, because everybody
knows that to feel at home is to feel at ease.

“East and west,
Home is best.”

Why, at home you are at home, and what more do you want? Nobody
grudges you, whatever your appetite may be; and you don’t get
put into a damp bed. Safe in his own castle, like a king in his
palace, a man feels himself somebody, and is not afraid of being
thought proud for thinking so. Every cock may crow on his own
dunghill; and a dog is a lion when he is at home. No need to
guard every word because some enemy is on the watch, no keeping
the heart under lock and key; but as soon as the door is shut it
is liberty hall, and none to peep and pry.

It is a singular fact, and perhaps some of you will doubt
it—but that is your unbelieving nature—our little ones are real
beauties, always a pound or two plumper than others of their age;
and yet it don’t tire you half so much to nurse them as it does
other people’s babies. Why, bless you, my wife would be tired
out in half the time, if her neighbor had asked her to see to a
strange youngster, but her own children don’t seem to tire her at
all. Now my belief is that it all comes of their having been born
at home.

Just so it is with everything else: our lane is the most
beautiful for twenty miles round, because our home is in it; and
my garden is a perfect paradise, for no other particular reason
than this very good one, that it belongs to the old house at home.

Husbands should try to make home happy and holy. It is an ill
bird that fouls its own nest, a bad man who makes his home
wretched. Our house ought to be a little church, with holiness
to the Lord over the door; but it ought never to be a prison,
where there is plenty of rule and order, but little love and no
pleasure.

Married life is not all sugar, but grace in the heart will keep
away most of the sours. Godliness and love can make a man, like
a bird in a hedge, sing among thorns and briars, and set others
a-singing too. It should be the husband’s pleasure to please his
wife, and the wife’s care to care for her husband. He is kind to
himself who is kind to his wife. I am afraid some men live by the
rule of self, and when that is the case home happiness is a mere
sham. When husbands and wives are well yoked, how light their
load becomes!

It is not every couple that is a pair, and the more’s the pity.
In a true home all the strife is which can do the most to make
the family happy. A home should be a Bethel, not a Babel. The
husband should be the house-band, binding all together like a
corner-stone, but not crushing everything like a millstone.

Nothing is improved by anger, unless it be the arch of a cat’s
back. A man with his back up is spoiling his figure. People look
none the handsomer for being red in the face. It takes a great
deal out of a man to get into a towering rage; it is almost
as unhealthy as having a fit, and time has been when men have
actually choked themselves with passion, and died on the spot.
Whatever wrong I suffer, it cannot do me half so much hurt as
being angry about it; for passion shortens life and poisons peace.

When once we give way to temper, temper will get right of way,
and come in easier every time. He that will be in a pet for any
little thing, will soon be out at elbows about nothing at all. A
thunder-storm curdles the milk, and so does a passion sour the
heart and spoil the character.

LITTLE PEARL AND HER MOTHER.

BY NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE.

Hawthorne is justly regarded as one of the masters of English prose, although the shadowed side of his life predominated and often gave a somewhat gloomy tinge to his writings. Yet through the morbid drapery by which he surrounds himself the light of his superb genius shines brilliantly. His style is a model of clearness, choice words and elevated sentiment. The extract given below is from “The Scarlet Letter,” one of his best works of fiction, and, in fact, one of the best that enriches our American literature. He possessed great originality, a rare power of analyzing character, a delicate and exquisite humor and marvelous felicity in the use of language. Mr. Hawthorne was born at Salem, Massachusetts, in 1804, and died in 1864.

So the mother and little Pearl were admitted into the hall of
entrance. With many variations, suggested by the nature of his
building-materials, diversity of climate, and a different mode of
social life, Governor Bellingham had planned his new habitation
after the residences of gentlemen of fair estate in his native
land.

Here, then, was a wide and reasonably lofty hall, extending
through the whole depth of the house, and forming a medium of
general communication, more or less directly, with all the other
apartments. At one extremity, this spacious room was lighted
by the windows of the two towers, which formed a small recess
on either side of the portal. At the other end, though partly
muffled by a curtain, it was more powerfully illuminated by one
of those embowed hall-windows which we read of in old books, and
which was provided with a deep and cushioned seat.

Here, on the cushion, lay a folio tome, probably of the
Chronicles of England, or other such substantial literature;
even as, in our own days, we scatter gilded volumes on the
centre-table, to be turned over by the casual guest. The
furniture of the hall consisted of some ponderous chairs, the
backs of which were elaborately carved with wreaths of oaken
flowers; and likewise a table in the same taste; the whole
being of Elizabethan age, or perhaps earlier, and heirlooms,
transferred hither from the governor’s paternal home.

On the table—in token that the sentiment of old English
hospitality had not been left behind—stood a large pewter
tankard, at the bottom of which, had Hester or Pearl peeped into
it, they might have seen the frothy remnant of a recent draught
of ale.

On the wall hung a row of portraits, representing the forefathers
of the Bellingham lineage, some with armor on their breasts,
and others with stately ruffs and robes of peace. All were
characterized by the sternness and severity which old portraits
so invariably put on; as if they were the ghosts, rather than the
pictures, of departed worthies, and were gazing with harsh and
intolerant criticism at the pursuits and enjoyments of living men.

At about the center of the oaken panels that lined the hall was
suspended a suit of mail, not, like the pictures, an ancestral
relic, but of the most modern date; for it had been manufactured
by a skillful armorer in London the same year in which Governor
Bellingham came over to New England. There was a steel headpiece,
a cuirass, a gorget and greaves, with a pair of gauntlets and
a sword hanging beneath; all, and especially the helmet and
breastplate, so highly burnished as to glow with white radiance
and scatter an illumination everywhere about upon the floor.

This bright panoply was not meant for mere idle show, but had
been worn by the governor on many a solemn muster and training
field, and had glittered, moreover, at the head of a regiment
in the Pequod war. For, though bred a lawyer, and accustomed
to speak of Bacon, Coke, Noye and Finch as his professional
associates, the exigencies of this new country had transformed
Governor Bellingham into a soldier, as well as a statesman and
ruler.

Little Pearl—who was as greatly pleased with the gleaming
armor as she had been with the glittering frontispiece of the
house—spent some time looking into the polished mirror of the
breastplate.

“Mother,” cried she, “I see you here. Look! Look!”

Hester looked, by way of humoring the child; and she saw that,
owing to the peculiar effect of this convex mirror, the scarlet
letter was represented in exaggerated and gigantic proportions,
so as to be greatly the most prominent feature of her appearance.
In truth, she seemed absolutely hidden behind it.

Pearl pointed upward, also, at a similar picture in the
headpiece, smiling at her mother with the elfish intelligence
that was so familiar an expression on her small physiognomy. That
look of naughty merriment was likewise reflected in the mirror,
with so much breadth and intensity of effect, that it made Hester
Prynne feel as if it could not be the image of her own child, but
of an imp who was seeking to mold itself into Pearl’s shape.

THE BABY IN THE BATH-TUB.

BY GRACE GREENWOOD.

The following selection is an excellent example of sprightly and vivacious writing, a kind of composition that is always entertaining to the reader. Under the assumed name of Grace Greenwood, Mrs. Sarah J. Lippincott was for many years a well-known and popular contributor to various periodicals. She also published several volumes, including works of fiction and stories of travel. She wrote poems that possessed much merit, thus exhibiting a wide range of talent. Her fine thoughts were expressed in a style of great ease, simplicity and beauty. Mrs. Lippincott was born in Onondaga County, New York, in 1825, and died in 1898.

“Annie! Sophie! come up quick, and see baby in her bath-tub!”
cries a charming little maiden, running down the wide stairway
of an old country house, and half-way up the long hall, all in
a fluttering cloud of pink lawn, her soft dimpled cheeks tinged
with the same lovely morning hue.

In an instant there is a stir and gush of light laughter in
the drawing-room, and presently, with a movement a little more
majestic and elder-sisterly, Annie and Sophie float noiselessly
through the hall and up the soft-carpeted ascent, as though borne
on their respective clouds of blue and white drapery, and take
their way to the nursery, where a novel entertainment awaits
them. It is the first morning of the eldest married sister’s
first visit home, with her first baby; and the first baby, having
slept late after its journey, is about to take its first bath in
the old house.

“Well, I declare, if here isn’t mother, forgetting her dairy, and
Cousin Nellie, too, who must have left poor Ned all to himself in
the garden, lonely and disconsolate, and I am torn from my books,
and Sophie from her flowers, and all for the sake of seeing a
nine-months-old baby kicking about in a bath-tub! What simpletons
we are!”

Thus Miss Annie, the _proude ladye_ of the family; handsome,
haughty, with perilous proclivities toward grand socialistic
theories, transcendentalism, and general strong-mindedness;
pledged by many a saucy vow to a life of single dignity and
freedom, given to studies artistic, æsthetic, philosophic, and
ethical; a student of Plato, an absorber of Emerson, an exalter
of her sex, a contemner of its natural enemies.

“Simpletons, are we?” cries pretty Elinor Lee, aunt of the baby
on the other side, and “Cousin Nellie” by love’s courtesy,
now kneeling close by the bath-tub, and receiving on her
sunny braids a liberal baptism from the pure, plashing hands
of babyhood,—“simpletons, indeed! Did I not once see thee, O
Pallas-Athene, standing rapt before a copy of the ‘Crouching
Venus?’

“And this is a sight a thousand times more beautiful; for here
we have color, action, life, and such grace as the divinest
sculptors of Greece were never able to entrance in marble. Just
look at these white, dimpled shoulders, every dimple holding a
tiny, sparkling drop,—these rosy, plashing feet and hands,—this
laughing, roguish face,—these eyes, bright and blue and deep as
lakes of fairy land,—these ears, like dainty sea shells,—these
locks of gold, dripping diamonds,—and tell me what cherub of
Titian, what Cupid of Greuze, was ever half so lovely? I say,
too, that Raphael himself would have jumped at the chance of
painting Louise, as she sits there, towel in hand, in all the
serene pride and chastened dignity of young maternity—of painting
her as _Madonna_.”

CANDACE’S OPINIONS.

BY HARRIET BEECHER STOWE.

Mrs. Stowe is particularly happy in portraying negro character. It requires for this a great appreciation of humor, and her writings abound in this, while her imagination and fine command of language make many of her writings brilliant and even poetical.

Mrs. Stowe is the most celebrated American authoress. Her “Uncle Tom’s Cabin” has been more widely read than any other work of fiction ever published. While in this work her conspicuous genius appears to fine advantage, she has nevertheless written other works, some of them describing New England life and character, which are masterpieces. She was born at Litchfield, Conn., on the 14th of June, 1812, and died at Hartford July 1st, 1896.

“I intend,” said Mr. Marvyn, “to make the same offer to your
husband, when he returns from work to-night.”

“Laus, Mass’r—why, Cato, he’ll do jes’ as I do—dere a’n’t no kind
o’ need o’ askin’ him. Course he will.”

A smile passed round the circle, because between Candace and her
husband there existed one of those whimsical contrasts which one
sometimes sees in married life. Cato was a small-built, thin,
softly-spoken negro, addicted to a gentle chronic cough; and,
though a faithful and skillful servant, seemed, in relation to
his better half, much like a hill of potatoes under a spreading
apple-tree. Candace held to him with a vehement and patronizing
fondness, so devoid of conjugal reverence as to excite the
comments of her friends.

“You must remember, Candace,” said a good deacon to her one day,
when she was ordering him about at a catechizing, “you ought to
give honor to your husband; the wife is the weaker vessel.”

“_I_ de weaker vessel?” said Candace, looking down from the tower
of her ample corpulence on the small, quiet man whom she had
been fledging with the ample folds of a worsted comforter, out of
which his little head and shining bead-eyes looked, much like a
blackbird in a nest—“_I_ de weaker vassel! Umph!”

A whole woman’s rights convention could not have expressed more
in a day than was given in that single look and word. Candace
considered a husband as a thing to be taken care of—a rather
inconsequent and somewhat troublesome species of pet, to be
humored, nursed, fed, clothed, and guided in the way that he was
to go—an animal that was always losing off buttons, catching
colds, wearing his best coat every day, and getting on his Sunday
hat in a surreptitious manner for week-day occasions; but she
often condescended to express it as her opinion that he was a
blessing, and that she didn’t know what she’d do if it wasn’t for
Cato.

She sometimes was heard expressing herself very energetically in
disapprobation of the conduct of one of her sable friends, named
Jinny Stiles, who, after being presented with her own freedom,
worked several years to buy that of her husband, but became
afterwards so disgusted with her acquisition, that she declared
she would “neber buy anoder nigger.”

“Now, Jinny don’t know what she’s talkin’ about,” she would say.
“S’pose he does cough and keep her awake nights, and take a
little too much sometimes, a’n’t he better’n no husband at all? A
body wouldn’t seem to hab nuffin to lib for, ef dey hadn’t an old
man to look arter. Men is nate’lly foolish about some tings—but
dey’s good deal better’n nuffin.”

And Candace, after this condescending remark, would lift with one
hand a brass kettle in which poor Cato might have been drowned,
and fly across the kitchen with it as if it were a feather.

MIDSUMMER IN THE VALLEY OF THE RHINE.

BY GEORGE MEREDITH.

An example of beautiful description.

An oppressive slumber hung about the forest-branches. In the
dells and on the heights was the same dead heat. Here where the
brook tinkled it was no cool-lipped sound, but metallic, and
without the spirit of water. Yonder in a space of moonlight on
lush grass, the beams were as white fire to sight and feeling.
No haze spread around. The valleys were clear, defined to the
shadows of their verges; the distances sharply distinct, and with
the colors of day but slightly softened.

Richard beheld a roe moving across a slope of sward far out of
rifle-mark. The breathless silence was significant, yet the moon
shone in a broad blue heaven. Tongue out of mouth trotted the
little dog after him; couched panting when he stopped an instant;
rose weariedly when he started afresh. Now and then a large white
night-moth flitted through the dusk of the forest.

On a barren corner of the wooded highland looking inland stood
gray topless ruins set in nettles and rank grass-blades. Richard
mechanically sat down on the crumbling flints to rest, and
listened to the panting of the dog. Sprinkled at his feet were
emerald lights: hundreds of glow-worms studded the dark dry
ground.

He sat and eyed them, thinking not at all. His energies were
expended in action. He sat as a part of the ruins, and the
moon turned his shadow westward from the south. Overhead, as
she declined, long ripples of silver cloud were imperceptibly
stealing toward her. They were the van of a tempest. He did not
observe them, or the leaves beginning to chatter. When he again
pursued his course with his face to the Rhine, a huge mountain
appeared to rise sheer over him, and he had it in his mind to
scale it. He got no nearer to the base of it for all his vigorous
outstepping. The ground began to dip; he lost sight of the sky.
Then heavy thunder-drops struck his cheek, the leaves were
singing, the earth breathed, it was black before him and behind.
All at once the thunder spoke. The mountain he had marked was
bursting over him.

Up started the whole forest in violent fire. He saw the country
at the foot of the hills to the bounding Rhine gleam, quiver,
extinguished. Then there were pauses; and the lightning seemed as
the eye of heaven, and the thunder as the tongue of heaven, each
alternately addressing him; filling him with awful rapture.

THE POWER OF NATURAL BEAUTY.

BY RALPH WALDO EMERSON.

“The Sage of Concord,” as Mr. Emerson was called, expresses the estimate the American public placed upon his writings. His profound thought and originality are unquestioned. To these grand qualities he added a poetic imagination which diffused a fine glow over all his productions.

Mr. Emerson was born in Boston in 1803, graduated from Harvard College in 1821, and entered the ministry of the Unitarian Church, from which, however, he shortly resigned, and soon devoted himself to literary pursuits. His works have a high reputation among scholars and speculative thinkers. His style is singularly terse and at times almost abrupt, but his thoughts are masterly and striking. He died in 1882.

Beauty is the mark God sets upon virtue. Every natural action is
graceful. Every heroic act is also decent, and causes the place
and the bystanders to shine. We are taught by great actions that
the universe is the property of every individual in it.

Every rational creature has all nature for his dowry and estate.
It is his if he will. He may divest himself of it; he may creep
into a corner, and abdicate his kingdom, as most men do; but he
is entitled to the world by his constitution. In proportion to
the energy of his thought and will, he takes up the world into
himself. “All those things for which men plough, build, or sail,
obey virtue;” said an ancient historian. “The winds and waves,”
said Gibbon, “are always on the side of the ablest navigators.”
So are the sun and moon and all the stars of heaven.

When a noble act is done—perchance in a scene of great natural
beauty; when Leonides and his three hundred martyrs consume one
day in dying, and the sun and moon come each and look at them
once in the steep defile of Thermopylæ; when Arnold Winkelreid,
in the high Alps, under the shadow of the avalanche, gathers in
his side a sheaf of Austrian spears to break the line for his
comrades; are not these heroes entitled to add the beauty of the
scene to the beauty of the deed? When the bark of Columbus nears
the shore of America;—before it the beach lined with savages,
fleeing out of all their huts of cane; the sea behind; and
the purple mountains of the Indian Archipelago around, can we
separate the man from the living picture? Does not the New World
clothe his form with her palm groves and savannahs as fit drapery?

Ever does natural beauty steal in like air, and envelop great
actions. When Sir Harry Vane was dragged up the Tower-hill
sitting on a sled, to suffer death, as the champion of the
English laws, one of the multitude cried out to him, “You never
sate on so glorious a seat.” Charles II., to intimidate the
citizens of London, caused the patriot Lord Russel to be drawn in
an open coach through the principal streets of the city, on his
way to the scaffold. “But,” to use the simple narrative of his
biographer, “the multitude imagined they saw liberty and virtue
sitting by his side.”

In private places, among sordid objects, an act of truth or
heroism seems at once to draw to itself the sky as its temple,
the sun as its candle. Nature stretcheth out her arms to embrace
man, only let his thoughts be of equal greatness. Willingly does
she follow his steps with the rose and the violet, and bend her
lines of grandeur and grace to the decoration of her darling
child. Only let his thoughts be of equal scope, and the frame
will suit the picture. A virtuous man is in unison with her
works, and makes the central figure of the visible sphere.

The noonday darkness of the American forest, the deep, echoing,
aboriginal woods, where the living columns of the oak and fir
tower up from the ruins of the trees of the last millennium;
where, from year to year, the eagle and the crow see no intruder;
the pines, bearded with savage moss, yet touched with grace
by the violets at their feet; the broad, cold lowland, which
forms its coat of vapor with the stillness of subterranean
crystallization; and where the traveler, amid the repulsive
plants that are native in the swamp, thinks with pleasing terror
of the distant town; this beauty—haggard and desert beauty, which
the sun and the moon, the snow and the rain repaint and vary,
has never been recorded by art, yet is not indifferent to any
passenger.

All men are poets at heart. They serve nature for bread, but her
loveliness overcomes them sometimes. What mean these journeys to
Niagara; these pilgrims to the White Hills? Men believe in the
adaptations of utility always. In the mountains they may believe
in the adaptations of the eye.

Undoubtedly the changes of geology have a relation to the
prosperous sprouting of the corn and peas in my kitchen garden;
but not less is there a relation of beauty between my soul and
the dim crags of Agiocochook up there in the clouds. Every
man, when this is told, hearkens with joy, and yet his own
conversation with nature is still unsung.

SUBJECTS FOR COMPOSITIONS.

To aid you in writing compositions a lengthy list of subjects is here furnished. These, you will see, are adapted to persons of various ages and capacities. Many of them are comparatively simple and require no profound thought, while others are deep enough to tax all your powers of reason.

Do not choose a subject that is too abstruse and difficult. Plain narration and description should go before profound argument. Yet do not be satisfied with a simple theme if you are capable of writing upon one that demands more study and thought. When you have chosen your subject, you should be guided by the practical hints and directions contained in the first pages of this volume, which you should faithfully study.

Many of the subjects here presented will require a good deal of reading and research before you can write upon them intelligently. This is true especially of the historical and biographical subjects. If you find history to be a fascinating study, as it is to most persons, you will become so filled and enamored with your theme, that you can write upon it easily.

Never consider it too much trouble to prepare yourself thoroughly to write your compositions. If you would have nuggets of gold you must dig for them. Success is worth all it costs, however much that may be. Remember Bulwer Lytton’s saying, “The pen is mightier than the sword.”

HISTORICAL SUBJECTS.

The Landing of the Pilgrims.
Captain John Smith and Pocahontas.
The French and Indian War.
The Siege of Quebec.
King Philip’s War.
Washington at Valley Forge.
The Surrender of Lord Cornwallis.
The Discovery of the Mississippi River.
Sir Walter Raleigh in Virginia.
The Pequod War.
Witchcraft at Salem, Massachusetts.
The Old Charter Oak at Hartford.
Destruction of Tea in Boston Harbor.
The Battles of Lexington and Concord.
The Famous Ride of Paul Revere.
The Siege of Boston.
The Battle of Long Island.
The Battle of the Brandywine.
The Murder of Miss McCrea.
The Battle of Monmouth.
The Surrender of Burgoyne’s Army.
The Siege of Savannah.
Washington Crossing the Delaware.
The Massacre of Wyoming.
The Treason of Benedict Arnold.
The Execution of Major André.
The Duel Between Hamilton and Burr.
The Battle of Monterey.
The Battle of Chapultepec.
The Siege of Vicksburg.
General Sherman’s March to the Sea.
Jackson’s Victories in Virginia.
The Death of “Stonewall Jackson.”
The Story of Cuban Insurrections.
The Great Naval Battle at Manila.
The Great Naval Battle at Santiago.
The Exploits of the “Rough Riders” at San Juan.
The Execution of John Brown.
The Massacre at Fort Dearborn.
The Discovery of Gold in California.
The Opening of the Pacific Railroad.
The Discovery of Gold in Alaska.
The Massacre of General Custer.
The Indian Wars in the Northwest.
The World’s Fair at Chicago.
The Centennial Exhibition at Philadelphia.
The Story of the Old Liberty Bell at Philadelphia.
The Great Flood at Johnstown, Pa.
The Destruction of the Battleship Maine.
The Invention of Printing.
Magna Charta, the Charter of Rights.
Constantinople Taken by the French.
The Moors Driven Out of Spain.
The Reformation in England.
The Invasion of Peru by Pizarro.
The Battle of Trafalgar.
The Spanish Armada.
The Battle of Balaklava.
The Gunpowder Plot (1605).
The Atrocities of the Paris Commune.
The Execution of Charles I.
The Bursting of the South Sea Bubble.
The Battle of Waterloo.
The Dismemberment of Poland.
The Great Mutiny in India.
The French Revolution.
The Martyrdom of Joan of Arc.
The Crusades.
The Siege of Troy.
The Great Plague in London.
The Battle of the Boyne.
The Imprisonment of James I. of Scotland.
The Story of Mary, Queen of Scots.

BIOGRAPHICAL SUBJECTS.

Miles Standish.
Cotton Mather.
Benjamin Franklin.
John Jay.
Samuel Adams.
Fisher Ames.
George Washington.
William Penn.
Marquis de Lafayette.
Count Pulaski.
General Israel Putnam.
General Anthony Wayne.
General Ethan Allen.
Thomas Jefferson.
Andrew Jackson.
Martha Washington.
Commodore Perry.
Commodore Decatur.
Daniel Webster.
Henry Clay.
Patrick Henry.
John Hancock.
General Winfield Scott.
Zachary Taylor.
The Indian Chief Tecumseh.
William Henry Harrison.
John C. Fremont.
Abraham Lincoln.
Robert E. Lee.
Ulysses S. Grant.
James A. Garfield.
General William T. Sherman.
Mary Lyon.
Frances E. Willard.
Susan B. Anthony.
Clara Barton.
Henry W. Longfellow.
William Cullen Bryant.
The Cary Sisters.
Washington Irving.
James Fenimore Cooper.
Francis Scott Key.
John Howard Payne.
Daniel Boone.
David Crockett.
General Sam Houston.
Lord Nelson.
The Duke of Wellington.
Napoleon Bonaparte.
The Duke of Marlborough.
Robert Bruce.
Robert Burns.
John Bright.
William E. Gladstone.
Alfred Tennyson.
Daniel O’Connell.
Robert Emmet.
Florence Nightingale.
John Knox.
Julius Cæsar.
Demosthenes.
Cicero.
Hannibal.
Alexander the Great.
Socrates.
Xantippe.
Queen Elizabeth.
Oliver Cromwell.
William Pitt.
Frederick the Great.
Captain Kidd.
Ferdinand de Soto.
Hernando Cortez.
Sir John Franklin.
Elisha Kent Kane.
Cyrus W. Field.
Professor Samuel B. F. Morse.
Alexander T. Stewart.
Peter Cooper.
John Jacob Astor.
William H. Vanderbilt.

SUBJECTS FOR NARRATION AND DESCRIPTION.

A New England Thanksgiving.
The Puritan Sabbath.
The Deserted Farm.
The Dangers of Frontier Life.
Natural Resources of the United States.
Social Customs of the Last Century.
A Spanish Bull Fight.
The Falls of Niagara.
The Hudson River.
Mount Washington.
A Western Prairie.
The Cotton Fields of the South.
The Orange Groves of Florida.
“The Father of Waters.”
The Rapid Growth of Western Cities.
A Ranch in the South-West.
The Cowboys of the Plains.
The Great Trees of California.
The Geysers of the Yellowstone Park.
The Instinct in Animals.
Some Recent Invention.
Some Public Institutions.
The Physical Characteristics of your State.
A Country Farm.
Your Home Enjoyments.
Fresh Air and its Uses.
Town and Country Schools.
Some Out Door School Games.
The Beauties of Summer.
The Remarkable Instinct of Birds.
An Arctic Expedition.
A Railway Station.
A Picture Gallery.
Electric Lights.
Winds and Clouds.
The Pastime of Fishing.
The Pastime of Skating.
Agricultural Implements.
Habits of Domestic Animals.
A Flower Garden.
Singing Birds.
Migration of Birds.
The American Eagle.
The Uses of Cats and Dogs.
The Game of Foot Ball.
The Game of Base Ball.
Your Favorite Book.
The County in which your School is Situated.
School Life: its Joys and Difficulties.
Castles in the Air.
The Pleasures of Christmas.
Leaning Tower of Pisa.
The Vatican at Rome.
St. Paul’s Cathedral in London.
The Capitol at Washington.
The White House at Washington.
The Suspension Bridge between New York and Brooklyn.
Bunker Hill Monument.
Mammoth Cave in Kentucky.
Independence Hall in Philadelphia.
An Ocean Steamship.
An American Battleship.
Coal Mines of Pennsylvania.
A Seaside Watering Place.
A Country Picnic.
A Clam Bake by the Sea-shore.
A Sleigh Ride.
A Century Run on Bicycles.
Your Favorite Walk.
The Value of Sunshine.
A Thunder Storm.
A Summer Vacation.

POPULAR PROVERBS.

More Haste, Less Speed.
Necessity is the Mother of Invention.
What Can’t be Cured must be Endured.
Well Begun is Half Done.
All that Glitters is not Gold.
Evil Communications Corrupt Good Manners.
Honesty is the Best Policy.
A Stitch in Time Saves Nine.
Prevention is Better than Cure.
A Rolling Stone Gathers no Moss.
Make Hay while the Sun Shines.
Birds of a Feather Flock Together.
Knowledge is Power.
Take Care of the Pennies and the Dollars will take Care of Themselves.
A Bird in the Hand is Worth Two in the Bush.
The Longest Way Around is the Shortest Way Home.
The Proof of the Pudding is in the Eating.
If you would Shoot High you must Aim High.
Marry in Haste and Repent at Leisure.
People who Live in Glass Houses should not Throw Stones.
Be Sure you are Right, then Go Ahead.
It is an Ill Wind that Blows Good to no One.
Every Crow Thinks her own Little Crows the Blackest.
You Cannot Make a Silk Purse out of a Sow’s Ear.
The Least Said, the Soonest Mended.
Speech is Silver, Silence is Golden.
Manners Make the Man.

SUBJECTS TO BE EXPOUNDED.

Benefits of Industry.
Evils of Idleness.
Summer Sports in the Country.
Winter Amusements in Cities.
Shop Windows at Christmas Time.
Habits of Economy.
Advantages of Travel.
Temptations of Riches.
Dangers of Trades Unions.
Benefits of Application.
Advantages of Muscular Exercise.
Physical and Moral Perils of Muscular Exercise.
Effects of Machinery upon Manual Labor.
Pleasures of Literature.
Sources of National Wealth.
Benefits of Self-Control.
Modern Methods of Benevolence.
Responsibilities of Scholars.
Causes of Commercial Decline.
Advantages of a National Bankrupt Law.
Peculiarities of the New England Poets.
The Character of Wilkins Micawber.
Claims of the Indians to Government Protection.
Evils of Immigration.
Characteristics of the English Novel.
Incentives to Literary Exertion.
Reforms Suggested in “Oliver Twist.”
American Tendencies to Extravagance.
Uses of Gold.
Uses of Public Libraries.
Infirmities of Genius.
Excellencies of the Puritan Character.
Miseries of Authorship.
Blessings of Liberty.
Pleasures in Contemplating Nature.
Dangers that Threaten our Republic.
Advantages of Method.
Distinctions in Society.
Rewards of Literary Labor.
Struggles for Civil Freedom.
Advantages of Competition.
Uses of Adversity.
Advantages of Self-Reliance.
Evils of Prejudice.
The Colonial Period of Our History.
Uses of Art.
Self-Made Men.
Dickens’ Caricatures of English Schools.
Irving’s Portraitures of the Dutch Settlers.
Injuries of Stimulants.
Evils of Centralization.
Advantages of Modern Inventions.
Uses of Coal.
Sources of Corruption in Civil Offices.
Elements of Success in Life.
Dangers of the French Republic.
Changes of Fashion.
Social Dangers from Anarchists.
Longfellow’s “Hiawatha.”
Longfellow’s “Evangeline.”
Oliver Wendell Holmes’s Humor.
Character of Eugene Field’s Poetry.
Characteristics of American Humor.
Hardships of the New England Settlers.
Persecution of the Jews.
Causes of Nihilism in Russia.
English Ideas of America.
Methods of Reform in the Civil Service.
Benefits of Mechanical Exhibitions.
Strikes and Arbitrations.
Time: its Use and Abuse.
Employers and Men: their Rights and Relations.
The Study of Modern Languages.
The Study of Ancient Languages.
Industry and Energy.
The Duty of Cleanliness.
Punctuality.
Courage.
Fortitude.
Cruelty to Animals.
The Law of Supply and Demand.
“Right before Might.”
The Telescope and Microscope.
Manhood Suffrage.
“The New Woman.”
Uses and Abuses of Money.
The Cultivation of Music.
Amusements for Young People.
The Great Discoverers of Queen Elizabeth’s Reign.
Pleasures of the Imagination.
Natural History as a Study.
Your Favorite Female Character.
The Cultivation of Memory.
Mental Discipline from the Study of Mathematics.
Knowledge the Best Kind of Wealth.
The Position and Prospects of the United States.
The Influence of Scenery on Character.
Sketch of the Plot of Any One of Shakespeare’s Plays.
How to Best Help the Poor.
Influence of Works of Fiction.
Description of Any One of Sir Walter Scott’s Poems and Novels.
Changes Caused by the Invention of the Typewriter.
The Saloon in Modern Politics.
The Evils of Great Trusts.
Utility of Shorthand.
Great Poets of England.
Dante’s Inferno.
The Alhambra.
The Catacombs of Rome.
The Style of John Bunyan.
The Consolations of Age.
The Dangers Arising from Great Trusts.
The Coast Guard Service.
The Wrongs of Ireland.
Plot of any one of Bret Harte’s Novels.
The Lives of the Poor in Large Cities.
On Making Music a Profession.
The Novel Entitled “Lorna Doone.”
The Duty of Cheerfulness.
Cervantes, the Soldier and the Writer.
Our American Humorists.
Martin Luther’s Moral Courage.
Truth the Standard of Excellence.
The Evils of Prejudice.
The Power of Ridicule.
The Power of Early Impressions.
The Exiles of Siberia.
Politics as a Profession.

SUBJECTS FOR ARGUMENT.

Should a Polygamist be Admitted to Congress?
Should Eight Hours Constitute a Day’s Labor?
Should Political Spoils Belong to the Victors?
Is a National Debt a Benefit?
Is Poverty an Incentive to Crime?
Should the United States Maintain a Large Standing Army?
Should Office Holders be Assessed for Party Expenses?
Is Drunkenness any Excuse for Murder?
Would Harmony in Human Beliefs be Desirable?
Should There be a Uniform Divorce Law in All Our States?
Can a Country be Free Without Free Trade?
Should Church Property be Exempt from Taxation?
Should Capital Punishment be Abolished?
Do Luxuries Become Necessities?
Should a Man Vote Who Cannot Read?
Was Thackeray a Cynic?
Should Public School Money be Given to Religious Sects?
Should Writers Adopt Phonetic Spelling?
Is a Man of Business Benefited by a Classical Education?
Is Literature Indicative of National Progress?
Is Electricity Destined to Become the Greatest Motive Power?
Should the Inventor Monopolize His Invention?
Should Cremation Supersede Burial?
Was the Execution of André Unjust?
Is Crime in Our Country on the Increase?
Does the Press in Our Country have too much Freedom?

SUBJECTS FOR COMPARISON.

Falsehood and Truth.
Practice and Habit.
Wit and Humor.
Extravagance and Thrift.
Confusion and Order.
The Democrats and Whigs.
Natural and Acquired Ability.
The Comparative Value of Iron and Gold.
Foreign and Domestic Commerce.
The Cavalier and the Puritan.
Waterloo and Sedan.
The Stage Coach and the Locomotive.
The Uses and Abuses of Fashion.
Capital and Labor.
Genius and Talent.
Romance and Reality.
“The Pen is Mightier than the Sword.”
Notoriety and Reputation.
Resolution and Action.
Working and Dreaming.
Leo X and Martin Luther.
The Statesmanship of Hamilton and Jefferson.
War and Arbitration.
Helen and Andromache.
“When the Law Ends, Tyranny Begins.”
“Deep Versed in Books, and Shallow in Himself.”
The Victories of Peace and of War.
Hypocrisy and Sincerity.
Solitude and Society.
Affection and Naturalness.
Brusque People and Fawning People.

MISCELLANEOUS SUBJECTS FOR COMPOSITIONS.

Looking on the Bright Side.
The Character of Busybodies.
Benevolence and Greed.
Character of the Pilgrims.
Painting and Sculpture.
The Head and the Heart.
Party Spirit and Good Government.
The Responsibility of Our Country to Mankind.
The Obligation of Treaties.
Great Men the Glory of their Country.
Ancient and Modern Eloquence.
Conscience and the Will.
The Heroism of the Indian.
Religion and Pleasure.
Spiritual Freedom.
The Present Age.
The Humorousness of Love Matches.
The Influence of Woman.
The Mission of Reformers.
The True Aristocracy.
The Expansion of the Republic.
The Bible and the Iliad.
The Huguenots in Carolina.
Puritan Intolerance.
The Compensations of Calamity.
Stateliness and Courtesy.
Truth and Tenderness.
Loungers in Corner Groceries.
A Defense of Enthusiasm.
The Ancient Mound Builders.
The Power of Words.
The Advantages of Playing Golf.
College Athletics.
The Physique of Americans.
The Influence of Climate on Physical Characteristics.
“Home is Where the Heart is.”
Coral Treasures of the Sea.
Sublimity of the Ocean.
The Beauty of Sea Waves.
The Power of Maternal Love.
The Beauty of Heroic Deeds.
The Ravages of War.
Children and Flowers.
Earning Capital.
The Sacredness of Work.
“The Boy is the Father of the Man.”
The Last Hours of Socrates.
The Discoveries of Astronomy.
Luck and Labor.
The Achievements of Earnestness.
The Ideal Citizen.

SYNONYMS AND ANTONYMS.

We use words to express ideas and thoughts. The best words are those which best express the thought or idea. All writers are frequently at a loss for the exact word or phrase that will express their meaning the most forcibly, and are compelled to ransack and search their vocabulary in order to get out of the difficulty.

The number of words used by the majority of persons is very small, and they are therefore in constant danger of the fault of repetition. We do not like to hear a speaker use the same word too frequently. To do so detracts seriously from the force and beauty of his address. While there are instances in which a repetition of a word is called for, and to make use of another would weaken the sentence and fail to fully give the meaning of the writer or speaker, it is nevertheless true that constant repetitions are not only a blemish, but a fault that should be corrected.

For the purpose of avoiding too much repetition in writing and speaking it is necessary to have a Dictionary of words of similar meaning. A Synonym is one of two or more words of similar significance which may often be used interchangeably. An Antonym is a word of opposite meaning. In the following list the Synonyms are first given; then follow, in parenthesis, the Antonyms, or words of opposite meaning.

All persons who would acquire an elegant style in literary composition, correspondence or ordinary conversation, will find this comprehensive Dictionary of Synonyms and Antonyms of great value. Jewels of thought should be set in appropriate language.

In this table the letter _a_ means adjective; _v_ means verb; _n_ means noun or substantive.

ABANDON—forsake, desert, renounce, relinquish. (Keep, cherish.)

ABANDONED—deserted, forsaken, profligate, wicked, reprobate,
dissolute, flagitious, corrupt, depraved, vicious. (Respected,
esteemed, cherished, virtuous.)

ABASEMENT—degradation, fall, degeneracy, humiliation, abjectness,
debasement, servility. (Elevation, promotion, honor.)

ABASH—disconcert, discompose, confound, confuse, shame, bewilder.
(Embolden.)

ABBREVIATE—shorten, curtail, contract, abridge, condense, reduce,
compress. (Lengthen, extend, enlarge, expand.)

ABDICATE—renounce, resign, relinquish. (Usurp.)

ABET—incite, stimulate, whet, encourage, back up, second,
countenance, assist. (Dampen, discourage, dispirit, depress,
repress, oppose.)

ABETTOR—instigator, prompter, assistant, coadjutor, accomplice,
accessory, _particeps criminis_. (Extinguisher.)

ABHOR—loathe, abominate, (Love, admire.)

ABILITY—power, skill, gumption, efficiency, mastery,
qualification, faculty, expertness. (Incompetence, inefficiency,
inability.)

ABJECT—despised, despicable, vile, grovelling, mean, base,
worthless, servile. (Supreme, august, commanding, noble.)

ABJURE—forswear, disclaim, unsay, recant, revoke, deny, disown.
(Attest, affirm.)

ABLE—competent, qualified, skilled, efficient, capable, clever,
adroit, adept, strong, telling, masterly. (Incompetent, weak,
unskilful, unqualified.)

ABODE—dwelling, residence, domicile, home, quarters, habitation,
lodging, settlement. (Transition, shifting, wandering,
pilgrimage, peregrination.)

ABOLISH—efface, extinguish, annihilate, nullify, destroy, undo,
quash, annul, cancel, abrogate, quench, suppress, vitiate,
revoke. (Introduce, establish, enforce, restore.)

ABOMINABLE—detestable, hateful, odious, execrable. (Choice,
excellent, attractive, select.)

ABORTIVE—ineffectual, futile, inoperative, defective, inadequate.
(Efficient, productive, complete.)

ABOUT—around, near to, nearly, approximately, contiguous. (Remote
from, distant.)

ABSCOND—take oneself off, “vamoose,” disappear, decamp, run away.
(Thrust oneself into notice.)

ABSENT—not present, wanting, absentminded, abstracted,
inattentive, listless, dreamy, visionary. (Present, collected,
composed, vigilant, observant.)

ABSOLUTE—certain, unconditioned, unconditional, unlimited,
unrestricted, transcendent, authoritative, paramount, imperative,
arbitrary, despotic. (Conditional, limited, hampered, fettered.)

ABSORB—suck up, imbibe, engross, drain away, consume. (Reserve,
save, spare, husband, economize, hoard up.)

ABSURD—unreasonable, nonsensical, foolish, vain, impracticable.
(Reasonable, prudent, veracious.)

ABUSE, _v._—pervert, deprave, traduce, debase, disparage,
slander, calumniate, rail at, reproach, depreciate. (Improve,
develop, cultivate, promote, bless, magnify, appreciate.)

ABUSE, _n._—perversion, ill-usage, depravation, debasement,
slander, reproach. (Cultivation, use, promotion, development,
appreciation, praise.)

ACCEDE—join, assent, acquiesce in, comply, agree, concur,
coincide, approve. (Dissent, object, decline, refuse.)

ACCELERATE—hasten, hurry, speed, expedite, quicken, precipitate,
facilitate. (Retard, delay, procrastinate, arrest, stop, impede,
suspend.)

ACCEPT—take, receive, assume, acknowledge, endorse. (Refuse,
repudiate, protest, disown.)

ACCEPTABLE—pleasant, grateful, welcome. (Repugnant, displeasing.)

ACCIDENT—casualty, contingency, hap, mishap, chance, mischance,
misadventure. (Law, order.)

ACCOMMODATE—adjust, adapt, fit, conform, reconcile, suit, oblige,
furnish, convenience. (Cross, thwart, counteract, plot against,
checkmate, defeat, inconvenience.)

ACCOMPLICE—confederate, ally, associate, accessory, _particeps
criminis_. (Adversary, rival, spy, opponent, enemy.)

ACCOMPLISH—complete, perform, finish, fulfil, execute, perfect,
consummate, achieve, effect, carry out. (Fail, miscarry, undo,
wreck, frustrate.)

ACCOMPLISHMENT—success, fulfilment, completion, performance,
execution, achievement, consummation, attainment. (Failure,
miscarriage, wreck, ruin.)

ACCORD—harmonize, agree, allow, grant, concede. (Jar, clash with,
deny, disallow.)

ACCOST—address, confront, speak to, greet, salute. (Evade, fight
shy of.)

ACCOUNT, _v._—compute, estimate, reckon up, take stock of. (Leave
unexplained, unsolved.)

ACCOUNT, _n._—reckoning, relation, charge, bill. (Riddle,
mystery, puzzle, unknown quantity.)

ACCOUNTABLE—answerable, responsible, amenable. (Exempt, free,
irresponsible.)

ACCUMULATE—heap up, save, collect. (Scatter, dissipate, diffuse,
spend, squander.)

ACCUMULATION—heap, amount, glut. (Dissipation, dissemination,
distribution, diminution.)

ACCURATE—definite, precise, correct, exact. (Inaccurate, wrong,
erroneous, blundering, careless.)

ACHIEVE—complete, gain, win.

ACHIEVEMENT—feat, exploit, distinguished performance,
acquirement. (Abortion, frustration, failure, shortcoming,
defect.)

ACKNOWLEDGE—avow, confess, own, recognize, admit, grant, concede.
(Repudiate, disclaim, disallow, disown, deny.)

ACQUAINT—make known, apprise, inform, communicate, intimate,
notify. (Leave ignorant, keep secret, conceal.)

ACQUAINTANCE—knowledge, familiarity, fellowship, companionship.
(Ignorance, stranger.)

ACQUIESCE—yield, concur, agree, assent. (Protest, object,
dissent, secede, oppose.)

ACQUIT—set free, release, discharge, clear, absolve, exculpate,
exonerate, liberate, deliver. (Accuse, impeach, charge, blame,
convict.)

ACT, _v._—do, perform, commit, operate, work, practice, behave,
personate, play, enact. (Neglect, cease, desist, rest, wait, lie
idle, refrain.)

ACTION—working, agency, operation, business, gesture, engagement,
fight, deed, battle, feat. (Inaction, repose, rest, idleness,
ease, indolence, inertia, passiveness, quiescence, dormancy.)

ACTIVE—energetic, busy, stirring, alive, brisk, operative,
lively, agile, nimble, diligent, sprightly, alert, quick, supple,
prompt, industrious. (Passive, inert, dead, extinct, dull,
torpid, sluggish, indolent, lazy, dormant, quiescent, asleep.)

ACTUAL—real, positive, existing, certain. (False, imaginary,
theoretical, illusive, fictitious.)

ACUTE—sharp, pointed, penetrating, piercing, keen, poignant,
pungent, intense, violent, shrill, sensitive, sharp-witted,
shrewd, discriminating, clever, cunning. (Obtuse, blunt, bluff,
dull, flat, callous, stupid, apathetic.)

ADAPT—fit, suit, adjust, conform, regulate. (Misfit, discommode,
dislocate.)

ADDICTED—committed to, devoted, prone, given up to, inclined,
habituated. (Uncommitted, free, uncompromised, neutral.)

ADDITION—annexation, accession, supplement, adjunct, affix,
appendage, accessory, increment, increase, complement, _plus_,
more. (Subtraction, deduction, retrenchment, curtailment,
deprivation, _minus_, less, loss, impoverishment.)

ADDRESS—speech, salutation, accost, appeal; also skill,
dexterity, adroitness; also direction, name; also residence.
(Response, answer, reply, rejoinder; also awkwardness,
maladroitness, clumsiness, slovenliness.)

ADHESION—sticking, adherence, adoption, attachment, espousal.
(Repulsion, revulsion, antipathy, aversion, hostility,
incompatibility, dislike.)

ADJACENT—next, near, nigh, at hand, alongside, close by,
adjoining, contiguous, bordering, neighboring, proximate.
(Remote, foreign, distant, aloof, far, apart, asunder.)

ADJOURN—put off, postpone, defer, delay, keep in abeyance,
prorogue, suspend, procrastinate, retard, waive, remand, reserve.
(Conclude, clinch, accelerate, precipitate.)

ADJUNCT—appendage, affix, annex, annexation, appendix, adhesion,
appurtenance. (Curtailment, retrenchment, lop, mutilation,
reduction, clipping, docking, filching.)

ADJUST—make exact, set right, fit, adapt, dovetail, arrange,
harmonize, settle, regulate. (Confound, confuse, muddle,
disorder, perplex, embarrass, entangle, clash, jar, jumble,
disarrange, unsettle.)

ADMIRABLE—wonderful, excellent, choice, noble, grand, estimable,
lovely, ideal, surpassing, extraordinary, eminent. (Detestable,
vile, mean, contemptible, despicable, worthless, wretched,
villainous, pitiful.)

ADMIT—allow, permit, suffer, receive, usher, grant, acknowledge,
confess, concede, accept. (Deny, refuse, shut out, forbid,
disown, disclaim.)

ADVANTAGEOUS—profitable, serviceable, useful, beneficial,
helpful, of value. (Disadvantageous, detrimental, prejudicial,
injurious, hurtful, harmful, deleterious, obnoxious, pernicious.)

AFFECTION—bent, inclination, partiality, attraction, impulse,
love, desire, passion, fascination; also suffering, disease,
morbidness. (Repulsion, revulsion, antipathy, dislike, recoil,
aversion, estrangement, indifference, coldness, alienation; also
wholeness, soundness, healthiness.)

AFFECTIONATE—loving, kind, fond, doting, tender, amiable,
cordial, hearty, good-hearted. (Cold, unloving, unkind,
heartless, selfish, crabbed, sour, malign, malicious, malevolent,
misanthropic, cynical, ill-natured, cruel, hating.)

AGREEABLE—pleasant, acceptable, grateful, refreshing, genial,
pleasing, palatable, sweet, charming, delectable. (Disagreeable,
displeasing, unpleasant, ungrateful, harsh, repellent, painful,
noxious, plaguy, irritating, annoying, mortifying.)

ALTERNATING—reciprocal, correlative, interchangeable, by turns,
_vice versa_. (Monotonous, unchanging, continual.)

AMBASSADOR—messenger, envoy, emissary, legate, nuncio,
diplomatist, diplomate, representative, vicegerent,
plenipotentiary, minister, agent. (Principal, government,
sovereign, power.)

AMEND—improve, correct, better, meliorate, rectify, prune,
repair, revise, remedy, reform. (Injure, impair, damage, harm,
hurt, mar, mangle, blemish, deteriorate, ruin, spoil.)

ANGER—resentment, animosity, wrath, indignation, pique, umbrage,
huff, displeasure, dungeon, irritation, irascibility, choler,
ire, hate. (Kindness, benignity, _bonhomie_, good nature.)

APPROPRIATE—assimilate, assume, possess oneself of, take, grab,
clutch, collar, snap up, capture, steal. (Relinquish, give up,
surrender, yield, resign, forego, renounce, abandon, discard,
dismiss.)

ARGUE—reason, discuss, debate, dispute, contend. (Obscure,
darken, mystify, mislead, misrepresent, evade, sophisticate.)

ARISE—rise, ascend, mount, climb, soar, spring, emanate, proceed,
issue. (Descend, fall, gravitate, drop, slide, settle, decline,
sink, dismount, alight.)

ARTFUL—cunning, crafty, skilful, wily, designing, politic,
astute, knowing, tricky. (Artless, naïve, natural, simple,
plain, ingenuous, frank, sincere, open, candid, guileless,
straightforward, direct.)

ARTIFICE—contrivance, stratagem, trick, design, plot,
machination, chicanery, knavery, jugglery, guile, jobbery.
(Artlessness, candor, openness, simplicity, innocence,
ingenuousness.)

ASSOCIATION—partnership, fellowship, solidarity, league,
alliance, combination, coalition, federation, junto, cabal.
(Opposition, antagonism, conflict, counteraction, resistance,
hinderance, counterplot, detachment, individualism.)

ATTACK—assault, charge, onset, onslaught, incursion, inroad,
bombardment, cannonade. (Defence, protection, guard, ward,
resistance, stand, repulse, rebuff, retreat.)

AUDACITY—boldness, defiance, prowess, intrepidity, mettle, game,
pluck, fortitude, rashness, temerity, presumption, foolhardiness,
courage, hardihood. (Cowardice, pusillanimity, timidity,
meekness, poltroonery, fear, caution, calculation, discretion,
prudence.)

AUSTERE—severe, harsh, rigid, stern, rigorous, uncompromising,
inflexible, obdurate, exacting, straight-laced, unrelenting.
(Lax, loose, slack, remiss, weak, pliant, lenient, mild,
indulgent, easy-going, forbearing, forgiving.)

AVARICIOUS—tight-fisted, griping, churlish, parsimonious, stingy,
penurious, miserly, niggardly, close, illiberal, ungenerous,
covetous, greedy, rapacious. (Prodigal, thriftless, improvident,
extravagant, lavish, dissipated, freehanded.)

AVERSION—antipathy, revulsion, repulsion, dislike, recoil,
estrangement, alienation, repugnance, disgust, nausea.
(Predilection, fancy, fascination, allurement, attraction,
magnet.)