CHAPTER X

THE CHOICE OF WORDS

After your mind is once well stocked with ideas and with the words naming those ideas, you will be in a fair way to do considerable thinking. But you will never be ready to think much until your mental tool chest is well furnished with these implements which are necessary to thought.

We do our thinking much as if we were cashiers handling countless bank bills and checks and drafts. We might look upon these as money; yet they are merely useful substitutes for the inconvenient and bulky gold and silver which they are good for. Just as surely we should know that our words are all good for the ideas which they name. We need not stop to challenge each and to call up the idea which it represents; but we should make change quickly, translating our thoughts into words quite as confidently as the cashier at the desk credits checks and drafts as "cash," altho they are only paper promises.

You have played checkers, backgammon, dominoes, and perhaps chess. You understand how useless are the single pieces, however richly carved, until they are moved about in combination with others. Words are the checkers and dominoes used in the game of thought; or, to change the figure, they are the strong links making the chain of thought. They have, in themselves, almost no value while lying singly as separate links ready to be made into chains, except for the fact that without the links there can be no chain. This, then, is the reason for acquiring a wide thinking-vocabulary. With all sorts of finely wrought links, many sorts of beautiful and precious chains are made. With all sorts of

excellent words, great and noble thoughts may be conceived and expressed. When admiring the finished chain, you pay small attention to the individual links. When you are thrilled by a noble thought, you give no heed to the single words in which it is uttered. We should forget to see the vase because of its flowers, the trimmings because of the garment, the features of a face because of the beauty of the soul that looks out, and the words of the sentence because of the force or beauty or nobility of the thought. Put deep down into your heart from today on the great truth that language is a vehicle, or carrier, for thought, and in no sense an end in itself alone. This is not saying that the vehicle may not be beautiful, but that we may well forget to look at the vehicle when absorbed in that which it carries. And would it not be a pity then to have only a sort of dumpcart as carriage for the use of kings and queens of noble thought? Yet the language of many persons always remains merely a sort of dumpeart, which drops their thoughts in a heap, any way and every way; and while this jumble contains much useful material, it gives small pleasure to anyone concerned.

How to choose words is an all-important question. But you need not worry over this, if only you first know words in abundance from which to choose, and if you then adopt the right principle of choice.

The vase suited to a handful of flowers should not by its brilliancy or by its color call attention away from the flowers themselves; for the effect of every bouquet may be increased or decreased by the color and shape of the dish in which it is placed. A lady in choosing trimmings for a fabric must be careful to select such as bring out, or develop, the best qualities of that fabric. She avoids. all those which call attention to themselves chiefly, knowing that the garment as a whole should be emphasized, if a beautiful effect is to be produced. So she takes a large piece of her material—

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not a mere sample" and tries with it the effect of various trimmings, not to see how they look, but to see how her material looks. This is exactly the way in which words should be chosen. They should suit the thought; and you may, if you will, try word after word until you find the very one that develops the thought best. Be sure that, when once chosen, the right word will not call attention loudly to itself, but will be so quietly woven into the body of the sentence that only the effect of a beautiful whole will be perceived. This it is to be an artist in words.

Here is a little story of a boy whose face was set to become a master of words and their uses. You may need to know in explanation that Tommy Sandys had just been writing in an essay contest, upon which four ministers served as judges.

For after all-how to tell it! Tommy was ignominiously beaten, making such a beggarly show that the judges thought it unnecessary to take the essays home with them for leisurely consideration before pronouncing Mr. Lauchlan McLauchlan winner. There was quite a commotion in the schoolroom. At the end of the allotted time the two competitors had been told to hand in their essays, and how Mr. McLauchlan was sniggering is not worth recording, so dumbfounded, confused, and raging was Tommy. He clung to his papers, crying fiercely that the two hours could not be up yet, and Lauchlan having tried to keep the laugh in too long it exploded in his mouth, whereupon, said he, with a guffaw, "He hasna written a word for near an hour!"

The unhappy Cathro tore the essay from Tommy's hands. Essay! It was no more an essay than a twig is a tree, for the gowk had stuck in the middle of his second page. Yes, stuck is the right expression, as his chagrined teacher had to admit when the boy was crossexamined.

He had brought himself to public scorn for lack of a word. What word? they asked testily, but even now he could not tell. He had wanted a Scotch word that would signify how many people were in church, and it was on the tip of his tongue, but would come no farther. Puckle was

The

nearly the word, but it did not mean so many people as he meant. hour had gone by just like winking; he had forgotten all about time while searching his mind for the word.

When Mr. Ogilvy heard this he seemed to be much impressed; repeatedly he nodded his head as some beat time to music, and he muttered to himself, "The right word—yes, that's everything,” and “ 'the time went by like winking'—exactly, precisely," and he would have liked to examine Tommy's bumps, but did not, nor said a word aloud.

"You little tattie doolie," Cathro roared, "were there not

a dozen words to wile from if you had an ill will to puckle? you at manzy, or·

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What ailed

"I thought of manzy," replied Tommy, wofully, for he was ashamed of himself, “but — but a manzy's a swarm. It would mean that the folk in the kirk were buzzing thegither like bees, instead of sitting still."

"Even if it does mean that," said Mr. Duthie, with impatience, "what was the need of being so particular? Surely the art of essaywriting consists in using the first word that comes and hurrying on." "That's how I did," said the proud McLauchlan.

"I see," interposed Mr. Gloag, "that McLauchlan speaks of there being a mask of people in the church. Mask is a fine Scotch word."

"Admirable," assented Mr. Dishart. "I thought of mask," whimpered Tommy, "but that would mean the kirk was crammed, and I just meant it to be middling full."

"Flow would have done," suggested Mr. Lorrimer.

"Flow's but a handful," said Tommy.

"Curran, then, you jackanapes! "

"Curran's no enough."

Mr. Lorrimer flung up his hands in despair.

"I wanted something between curran and mask," said Tommy, dogged, yet almost at the crying.

Mr. Ogilvy, who had been hiding his admiration with difficulty, spread a net for him. "You said you wanted a word that meant middling full. Well, why did you not say middling full-or fell mask?"

“Yes, why not?" demanded the ministers, unconsciously caught in the net.

"I wanted one word,” replied Tommy, unconsciously avoiding it.

"You jewel!" muttered Mr. Ogilvy under his breath, but Mr. Cathro would have banged the boy's head had not the ministers interfered. "It is so easy, too, to find the right word," said Mr. Gloag.

"It's no; it's as difficult as to hit a squirrel," cried Tommy, and again Mr. Ogilvy nodded approval.

An odd thing happened. As they were preparing to leave the school, the door opened a little and there appeared in the aperture the face of Tommy, tear-stained but excited. "I ken the word now," he

cried, it came to me a' at once; it is hantle!"

The door closed with a victorious bang, just in time to prevent Cathro"Oh, the sumph!" exclaimed Mr. Lauchlan McLauchlan, “as if it mattered what the word is now!"

And said Mr. Dishart, "Cathro, you had better tell Aaron Latta that the sooner he sends this nincompoop to the herding the better."

But Mr. Ogilvy, giving Lauchlan a push that nearly sent him sprawling, said in an ecstasy to himself, "He had to think of it till he got it and he got it. The laddie is a genius!" They were about to tear up Tommy's essay, but he snatched it from them and put it in his oxter pocket. "I am a collector of curiosities," he explained, "and this paper may be worth money yet."

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out of

Well," said Cathro, savagely, "I have one satisfaction, I ran him my school."

"Who knows," replied Mr. Ogilvy, but that you may be proud to dust a chair for him when he comes back?"

I Mental:

From "Sentimental Tommy," by J. M. Barrie.*

EXERCISES

A study of Longfellow's "Village Blacksmith."

Under a spreading chestnut-tree

The village smithy stands;

The smith, a mighty man is he,

With large and sinewy hands ;

* Reprinted by permission of the publishers, Charles Scribner's Sons.