A FIRST BOOK IN WRITING ENGLISH
[Illustration: The MM Co.]
A FIRST BOOK
IN
WRITING ENGLISH
BY
EDWIN HERBERT LEWIS, PH.D.
ASSOCIATE PROFESSOR OF ENGLISH IN LEWIS INSTITUTE
AND IN THE UNIVERSITY OF CHICAGO
New York
THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
LONDON: MACMILLAN & CO., LTD.
1897
_All rights reserved_
COPYRIGHT, 1897,
BY THE MACMILLAN COMPANY.
Norwood Press
J. S. Cushing & Co.—Berwick & Smith
Norwood Mass. U.S.A.
PREFACE
It sometimes happens that the study of the principles of composition is
left until the overcrowded last year of the high school, under the plea
that facts ought to precede generalizations. Is it not better to have
the pupil begin two or three years earlier than this to frame simple
generalizations for his own future guidance? The first year student daily
awakes to new experiences and problems. He demands rules and reasons:
“_How_ shall he choose theme topics? _How much_ shall he put into a
sentence? _Why_ is _electrocution_ in bad usage?” If the principle is
asked for, should it not be given—as much of it as can be digested? When
such a course is followed, time enough is left in the high school for
composition to become a habit. The complex process wherein invention, as
it proceeds, is rectified by criticism, involves many delicate reflexes.
The formulated principle, invaluable to the student in revising, in turn
grows to be an unconscious factor in every succeeding act of composition.
The more essential rules ought not to be mere phantoms to the boy just
completing his first year in the secondary school. In regard to other
matters of living, great principles are taught him from infancy, without
the slightest fear of setting up too analytic a state of mind. If a boy
of three may be told “always to do one thing at a time,” must a boy
be eighteen before he is told “always to write about one thing at a
time”? At three the child is required to control some of his strongest
emotions; must he be eighteen before he is asked to check digressions in
the paragraph? And is it possible to implant a genuine habit of checking
digressions except by leading the student from particular instances
to some generalization which he may keep in mind as a norm for future
self-criticism? Synthesis and analysis cannot safely be separated;
a good prescription for most rhetorical disorders is, more of both.
Indeed, what seems to be needed to-day in teaching composition is not
one thing, but several: on the one hand, more utilization of literature
and more appeal to social interests; on the other hand, more inductions
and generalizations by the student himself; on both hands, more time for
practice and self-criticism.
In the present book, originally printed privately for my own classes
and now rewritten and enlarged, I have tried to present a large number
of definite situations to be faced for constructive practice both in
organization and in diction; and to give in simple, even colloquial
language, all the larger generalizations which a boy presenting himself
at college might reasonably be expected to have been using for two or
three years as touchstones of his own work. Except in the chapters on
punctuation and grammar, the order of reaching generalizations is meant
to be essentially inductive. In these review-chapters a part of the
principles come before the illustrations in order to get the help of
all past associations. Even here the induction is often gone through
with a second time, leading up to a restatement of the principle. It is
recommended that students should often be asked to frame generalizations
of their own, though the text-book may have led up to similar ones.
In Chapters VII. and X., on words, I have tried to present conditions
favorable to the framing of definitions by the student. By various
devices I have constantly tried to avoid separation between exercise
critical and exercise constructive. Occasionally, after the correct
form has been studied, bad English is offered for correction, for the
sake of the appeal to the student’s personal pride and his sense of the
ridiculous; but in general it is assumed that the student’s correction of
his own bad English will afford plenty of contact with faulty forms.
The book is primarily intended to be used in close connection with the
literary studies of the first two years of the secondary course. It may
be used later if the arrangement of subjects allows little time for
literature in these earlier years. The order of presentation should,[1]
in the author’s opinion, follow that of the book. Still, Chapter VIII.,
on correct choice of words, may be taken at the start if the teacher
prefers. Where a good deal of literary study is carried on in the first
year, the first eight chapters are perhaps enough for this year. But a
rate of progress cannot be prescribed. A text-book is a mere help, and
bad in proportion as it tries to be anything more. Its function seems
to be to supply the supplementary appeal to the eye, since the living
teacher can engage to do this but to a limited extent. It appears obvious
that the book should be read slowly enough to permit two things—much
parallel literary study, and much revision of themes in the light of
preceding chapters. First drafts are sometimes all that are worth
making; but usually a task requiring connected discourse is not finished
until there have been several revisions. If the student writes each new
composition with a view to one particular kind of excellence, and then
revises with reference to the kinds of excellence he has previously
striven for, he will gradually be able to hold several stylistic
principles in mind as he composes. Many themes should be written in
class. A limited period should be set for the first draft; and half as
much time may well be spent in revising before this is handed in. In this
revision the student may profitably read his theme as many times as there
are chapters to be mentally reviewed.
The remarkable strength of the verbal memory in students of the first two
years of the secondary school is a fact by which every teacher must have
been impressed.[2] Add to this fact the other, that the pupil’s social
interests are now in a perfect renaissance of liveliness, and you have
exactly the conditions for enlarging the working vocabulary. It is now
or never. The boy, though like the man he hates a fine distinction in
conversation, is growing out of the exaggerated reticence which has of
late seemed to him the manly thing. He is no longer determined to employ
what Mrs. Meynell, speaking of the boy of twelve, calls his “carefully
shortened vocabulary.”[3] The girl, even more than the boy, is full of
new ideas which would flower into speech if the words were to be had.
To capture these new interests and satisfy them by literature is of
course the best thing. Study of isolated words, whether for knowledge or
for power, is but supplementary to the study of the vital functions of
words in the living organism. But even the study of synonyms, if pursued
in preparation for an oral debate,—one of the very best exercises
for first-year students,—or in connection with a page of spirited
prose, rapidly becomes constructive and vital. Although the chapters
on vocabulary (IX. and X.) may be given before the student has begun a
foreign language, the best results with them will not be secured until
he has had at least six months in Latin. The study of prefixes and
suffixes (p. 186 ff.) should not be made burdensome. Some general view
of the subject seems desirable, but the detailed study is best given in
connection with an interesting context.
For kindly criticism or advice I have debts of gratitude to Professor and
Mrs. W. D. McClintock; to Professor F. A. March, Professor John Dewey,
and Professor Robert Herrick; to several of my colleagues, especially
Director George M. Carman, Miss Jane Noble, and Mr. Phil B. Kohlsaat;
to Mr. F. A. Manny, to Mrs. Hufford and Miss Dye, of Indianapolis; to
Superintendent A. F. Nightingale, Miss Jones, and Miss Herrick, of the
Chicago high schools. I have been particularly indebted to Carpenter’s
_Advanced Exercises_, a book made familiar to me by using it with
freshmen in college; and to Scott & Denney’s _Paragraph-Writing_. For
the index I have to thank Miss L. E. W. Benedict, librarian of Lewis
Institute, and Mr. Lewis Gustafson.
E. H. L.
CHICAGO, April 15, 1897.
CONTENTS
PAGE
PREFACE v
INTRODUCTORY EXPLANATIONS 1
I. THE ART OF WRITING ENGLISH 5
II. ON READING ALOUD, AND ON SPELLING 12
III. A REVIEW OF PUNCTUATION 21
IV. GRAMMATICAL PHASES OF WRITING ENGLISH 43
V. ON DIVIDING A PARAGRAPH INTO SENTENCES 74
VI. ON WELL-KNIT SENTENCES 96
VII. ON ORGANIZING THE THEME 114
VIII. ON CORRECTNESS IN CHOICE OF WORDS 147
IX. SOURCES OF THE ENGLISH VOCABULARY 181
X. THE MASTERY OF A WRITING VOCABULARY 194
XI. RIGHT NUMBER AND SKILFUL CHOICE OF WORDS 227
XII. LETTER-WRITING 255
XIII. REPRODUCTION, ABSTRACT, SUMMARY, ABRIDGMENT 262
XIV. NARRATION AND DESCRIPTION 271
XV. EXPOSITION AND ARGUMENT 279
INDEX 283
INTRODUCTORY EXPLANATIONS
Our plan provides for a good many short compositions. These, as well
as all other exercises, should be written on uniform theme-paper,[4]
say eight inches by ten, with a broad margin at both sides. There are
advantages in the double margin. First, it is easier for the reader of
the theme to jot down his suggestions at the right, since he need not
turn the paper to do so. Secondly, it is well for the student to learn
the knack of keeping _a straight edge_ at the left hand. Only one side of
the paper should be written on. If a mistake is made, a heavy line may
be drawn through the word. The manuscript ought to present the neatest
possible appearance. Blank spaces are to be avoided at the end of lines,
except where a paragraph ends. The straight edge, referred to above,
is to be scrupulously preserved at the left of the page, except that
when a new paragraph (that is, division of the theme) is to begin, the
first line of it should start about two inches farther to the right than
the other lines. The pages should be carefully numbered in the upper
right-hand corner, and kept in their proper order. Nothing is more
disconcerting to any person who reads a manuscript than to open the paper
and find before him the last page, rather than the first. Every theme
should have a definite title. This should appear in the blank space at
the top of the first page and in the endorsement of the folded paper, on
the back of the last page. The theme should be folded once, lengthwise.
In the blank space at the top should be written the endorsement, which
should follow this model: (1) name; (2) name of course; (3) title; (4)
date.
Richard Doe.
First year English.
A Dialogue on Politics.
Oct. 1, 189-.
After the themes have been read, whether by the instructor alone or
by the class and the instructor, they will be returned with marginal
comments, and (just under the endorsement) a summary of these comments.
In many cases the student will be expected to rewrite, and the word
_Rewrite_ will appear with the general comment. Otherwise he will be
expected to _Revise_, that is, to interline corrections and improvements
on the manuscript without copying it.
Each student’s papers will be filed and kept. He will often be asked to
consult with the instructor concerning his own progress, as shown by his
bundle of themes.
The following suggestive signs[5] may be used in the margin of themes,
indicating the presence of errors, the actual errors to be discovered
by the pupil for himself. Some teachers will prefer a simpler system of
symbols, some a more elaborate system. The suggested list can easily be
modified or supplanted.
MS. Bad manuscript.
✓. Some obvious fault—a mark which will be used more and more
frequently as the student’s knowledge increases. The
check-mark will frequently indicate bad spelling or
punctuation, or fault in capitalizing.
SP. Bad spelling (see under check-mark).
HY. Fault in use of hyphen.
P. Fault in punctuation (see also under check-mark).
CAP. Fault in the use of a capital letter (see check-mark).
L. Too loose; structure rambling.
S. Solecism.
C. Structure incoherent.
E. Lack of emphasis in sentence.
U. Lack of unity in sentence.
TR. Transpose order of words.
V. Vague.
A. Ambiguous.
¶U. Lack of unity in paragraph.
¶. Proper place for a paragraph.
(. Run two paragraphs together.
[]. Passages within brackets to be omitted.
[Deleatur symbol]. Dele, take out, omit; a mark used in correcting
printer’s proof.
|. Against a passage requiring to be wholly recast.
RI. Unnecessary repetition of idea.
?. Questions truth of statement.
B. Barbarism.
I. Impropriety.
W. Wordy.
H. High-flown, inflated, or over-ambitious.
D. Consult the dictionary.
HACK. Hackneyed.
BW. Better word needed—a more exact or appropriate word.
RW. Unnecessary repetition of a word.
M. Metaphors mixed, or other fault in the use of figures of speech.
K. Awkward, ugly, or unpleasing.
BT. Bad taste.
A strong notebook of portable size is needed for the work in spelling and
vocabulary. It should be used from the first for noting new words, etc.
See page 199.
A FIRST BOOK IN WRITING ENGLISH
CHAPTER I
THE ART OF WRITING ENGLISH
=An Art of Communication.=—Language may be studied in various ways.
It may be scientifically investigated as a historical growth, or as
a curious revelation of how the human mind works. This kind of study
has pure knowledge for its object; if it learns the laws which govern
language, it is satisfied. Again, language may be studied with a view to
applying its principles to the art of self-expression. The attempt to
find words for one’s ideas has enlivened many a weary hour for many a
person who wrote merely for his own satisfaction. But the chief object
for which language should be studied is that it may be made a means of
communication.
Most that is good in life comes from men’s ability to make their fellows
share their thoughts and feelings. But it is not always an easy thing
to make others see how we feel or think. The young child is called an
_infant_, a word which means _not-speaking_. Half his miseries arise from
his inability to communicate his notions. “Men are but children of a
larger growth,” and much of their misery results from inability to tell
what they think or feel. In a sense the case is worse for the man than
for the child. The latter makes gestures and grimaces to help his meaning
out; and he depends not in vain on pitch and stress. The grown man is
partly shorn of these helps, in that he has to communicate by letters and
other compositions. How much more work the eye does to-day than the ear!
Before the age of printing, things were different.
Both in speaking and in writing there are many special laws that must
be observed if there is to be real communication. The special laws of
spoken language are not so numerous as those of written language. Written
language has to be much more careful than spoken; the writer has no
chance of correcting himself on the spot if not understood. Nevertheless
a knowledge of how to communicate by written words is a very great help
in communicating orally.
The art of communicating by means of written English words is called
English composition, or rhetoric. The latter word once meant the art of
speaking; and it still keeps this sense when a composition is written
to be delivered. Rhetoric is a useful art, like that of curing the
sick, or that of building bridges. A matter of prime importance to each
man is that, in business or in society, he should be able to say or
write exactly what he means; rhetoric helps him to do this. A business
man may lose money by failing to make himself clearly understood;
misunderstandings and quarrels arise between friends because some one
has failed to write just what he meant; a man is liable to be taken for
a boor if he abuses the English language. Rhetoric is an exceedingly
practical art.
It would not, however, be fair to remove all emphasis from the fact
that rhetoric is a fine art, an art of beauty. As soon as the student
begins to master the use of words, he has a chance to become an artist in
language. In producing a beautiful thing he feels the artist’s pleasure.
Most persons like to play some musical instrument, or experiment in
color, or use a camera. Why should they not come to enjoy the art of
setting down their ideas in words skilfully chosen, and arranged with
delicate precision? The old Greeks enjoyed it—those people who knew how
to extract so much high pleasure from life. Along with their musical
contests and athletic contests, they had trials of skill in poetry and in
public speech.
There is no more delightful art than that of writing, if the writer
finds words for his own fresh impressions. In order to learn the
mandolin, a new player will train his wrist till it aches. But thrumming
music is doubtless small pleasure compared with writing music; and
writing English is in a way like writing music,—a fine, high, creative
process, which, in the hands of a master, results in a permanent, not a
fleeting, product.
A teacher of English recently said that, in a certain sense, if a student
likes any study at all he can be brought to like composition also.[6]
She was right. If he cares for mathematics, and the beautiful precision
by which everything in mathematics falls exactly into its place, he will
enjoy showing the exact relations he conceives to exist between the
parts of his sentence. If a girl likes music she will care for the music
that is in prose. She will perceive that a good sentence is free from
ugly sounds, and has furthermore a music of rhythm, a finely modulated
rise and fall that a keen ear readily perceives. A lad declares himself
interested in inventing or in building machinery. If so, why should he
not enjoy building a theme? To think out a new mechanical device requires
much the same kind of ingenuity, sense of proportion, perception of cause
and effect, that are required in thinking out the logical framework of a
composition.
The student should work steadily toward the point where he may come to
have an abiding love for that which is lucid and beautiful in expression
by words. He will never regret the time he spends in perfecting his
instrument of expression. No matter how practical the life he plans to
lead, the power of writing down his ideas in good English, in a way that
will leave no doubt as to what he meant and how earnestly he meant it,
will always profit him. One meets everywhere men who lament that they
gave so little attention to our language when they were young enough to
master it.
=The Limitations of the Art.=—It must never be supposed that, because to
some extent a fine art, rhetoric should be studied as an end in itself.
What was said a moment ago about the primary aim of the study must be
kept steadily in view. We study the art of composition not for the art’s
sake, but to communicate our ideas and feelings. Rhetoric does not
profess to supply the student with ideas, though it assumes that his mind
is stimulated to new thought by trying to express that which he already
has. The more ideas he brings to the study,—ideas he has thought out in
life or in his other studies, like literature, history, civics,—the more
facility he will carry away; for ideas are the very best of material
to make themes of. If composition does only one thing for a given
person,—if, namely, it brings him to a sturdy habit of _finding something
to say_ before he asks other people to listen to him,—it is eminently
worth while.
=Write for an Audience.=—Writing is usually good in proportion as the
writer is interested in it. If he cares for it, if he is anxious to find
a worthy thought and make it clear to the eyes of others, he will be very
likely to succeed in doing so. Something of every student’s weekly work
ought to be good enough to come before the eyes of his friends and to
command his friends’ respect. The student will find that his mates are
keen critics; they will not respect poor work. But they are also fair and
sympathetic critics, ready and willing to surrender on sight to really
good work. A class as a whole will judge the compositions of each member
disinterestedly and appreciatively.
Whatever is most characteristic of you, as different from other people;
whatever gift is yours, of imagination, or reasoning power, or emotion,
or humor,—all will find its fit expression in your writing. Every human
being is particularly interested in something, is peculiarly apt at
something. To find out what most appeals to one’s self in literature or
in life, and to voice one’s ideas about it, is to know a keen pleasure.
It is more. It is to be of some use to one’s fellows. As human beings we
want other human beings to tell us the best that is in them. If a man
has ideas we wish to share them—and wish him to learn how to express
them that we may share them. If he hasn’t ideas, the effort to express
what he considers such will convince both him and us of the fact. But
then!—everybody has ideas.