practice is that of defining familiar terms. In fact, it would be difficult to discover a surer remedy for inaccuracy. Let us make the test. How many of us could give at the first attempt a reasonably adequate definition of college, university, sociology, agriculture, motorcycle, moving picture, translation? An adequate definition, it should be remembered, requires complete identification; complete identification requires distinctions; and distinctions are impossible unless we use words with accuracy. Every serious attempt at definition is, then, a step toward a more serviceable vocabulary.

3. Adapting the same subject-matter to different audiences. -Another kind of practice which many writers have found helpful consists in adapting the same subject-matter to the understanding or taste of different people. For example, if we are discussing fraternities or college clubs with an old man who never attended college, we must be much more explicit than we should find it necessary to be if we were talking to some of our classmates. As a result of the former's meager knowledge, we are required not only to explain conditions, but to explain the very terms we use. If we do not, we shall confuse and disappoint him. He will be asking all the while, What is that? What do you mean? How am I to understand that? A listener's facial expression, his interest or indifference, and his mild protests or frank words of approval always guide us in making ourselves easily understood. We are influenced, too, by our own attitude of personal respect for the one with whom we talk. For instance, if a freshman spends an evening with the college president, the occasion doubtless brings a seriousness and dignity to his speech that is very noticeably lacking ordinarily. And herein lies one of the great values of conversation as a means of increasing our skill in writing. As we more or less unconsciously lend ourselves to the task of making it impossible for any of our listeners to misunderstand either our thought or our attitude, we are stimulated to employ many words that for months, perhaps, have remained unused in the dusty corners of consciousness. When we are

writing we are without this personal presence of the listener, but if we keep him clearly in mind, we shall derive much of the benefit that is to be found in conversation. If anybody doubts the efficacy of the practice, let him try to write a letter on the same subject to a former teacher, his mother, his older sister, his eight-year old brother, and a school chum who went to another college.

4. The deliberate use of newly found words. The best kind of practice, however, is the deliberate using of new words. encountered in any kind of study or experience. To some this may seem an artificial and over-businesslike way of going about the task; but if we bear in mind that the first purpose of all effort toward a serviceable vocabulary is to have words in readiness, we shall probably not question any method which promises this desirable result. Anything that helps to establish a word in our mental experience merits consideration. And there can be no doubt that writing a word repeatedly in a normal context, though done as mere exercise, will go far toward making it such a definite part of our mental possessions that we shall soon use it easily and naturally. Anyone who possesses enough will power to follow the plan of using two or three new words each week will be surprised to find how easily the words are learned and how soon they become firmly established in one's mind.

5. Other kinds of practice. Of course, there are many other kinds of helpful practice. Not a few earnest writers, regardless of their interest or lack of interest in poetry, have profited by the more or less regular writing of verse. The demand for words that will at the same time meet the requirements of the writer's meaning and the given meter calls into service every part of his vocabulary. This method, we remember, was followed by Franklin. Again, many who have neither the time nor the inclination to write verse will find it worth while to keep new words on a card and glance at them occasionally; or, what is still better, keep them conspicuously posted over the study table where they may be seen without

effort. Others have found, too, that it is profitable to make lists of the words they repeat too frequently, and then in spare moments to master fresh synonyms of these. All of these practices, like the others we have considered, are worth trying. If some of us find that we do not like any of them as well as some means we have ourselves discovered, very well. There is no monopoly on helps of this kind. The matter of importance is that we should use the method at hand, however matter-offact and tedious it may seem. The magic is not in the method, but in the artist's curiosity which sees in very ordinary procedure an opportunity to rise to self-mastery and self-depend

ence.

V. THE WRITER'S USE OF WORDS

The mere presence of words in our mental storehouse is very essential; but this does not afford us a very certain guarantee that we shall be able to express ourselves well. Even the most serviceable vocabulary contains words that we do not desire to use at all. Uninvited these have found their way along with those which more certainly reflect our knowledge and our spirit. Others have gained place, no doubt, because at one time we took pride in the mastery of a kind of expression we no longer admire. Probably we may be glad to know these, but we should feel deeply humiliated if we believed they were expressive of the dominant spirit of our lives. Moreover, it is necessary to have at hand many other words which we use only on extraordinary occasions, or when treating matters that rarely demand our attention. Now when all these less acceptable or less serviceable words are associated in our minds with the many others that we regard as serving our purposes, it is evident that we must exercise care in choosing. Sometimes it is necessary to choose between the good and the bad; sometimes, between the good and the better; and sometimes, between those which seem to be almost equally good.

A. THE EXCLUSION OF WORDS NOT SANCTIONED
BY GOOD JUDGMENT

The skillful use of words, therefore, is chiefly a matter of good judgment. Few words are inherently bad; we cannot say of very many that they should never be employed. It is true that we sometimes see rigid classifications of "good English and "bad English," but they are so artificial and so thoroughly antagonistic to the very nature of the words in a living language, that they afford little help and often result in much confusion. It is better to look upon words as we look upon people: some are for intimate friendship, others for pleasant acquaintance, others for business association, and still others for the merest formality that exists between persons whose interests are widely different, but whose lives are occasionally brought together in some passing relation. We are not to look upon one word as being just as good as another. Steadily we push some farther and farther into the background until we rarely, if ever, are prompted to use them. Others do not so nearly approach disappearance, yet we exclude them from habitual use. But they are not excluded because somebody has said arbitrarily that they ought to be; they are excluded because they are not well suited to perform service in the most usual kinds of communication. Virtually all these words fall under two heads : (1) those not understood or misunderstood; (2) those likely to make an unfavorable impression.

In this first

1. Words not understood or misunderstood. class, the ones that probably require least attention are those that have passed from active service in the language and those that have not yet gained full currency. The smallness of the degree of danger from the first of these arises from the fact that we are not likely to use many obsolete words under any circumstances. Occasionally in our reading of Chaucer or Spenser or Shakespeare we form a working acquaintance with such words. as withsay, kine, in sooth, micel, mayhap, affray (verb), bote, chapman, dight, cousinage, ilke, albeit, and yclept; and if we do,

ART WRIT. ENG. -7

we must not hope to have readers in general understand us when we employ them. But words of this class really do not require much attention. With the new words, the case is different in kind but not in degree. When newness is the only objection that can be made, a word must be very new, indeed, if it is not generally understood. If it is expressive, it is scarcely off the tongue for the first time before it is hurried by telegraph, fast mail, rural delivery, and telephone to every corner of the country. Who, for example, does not know the meaning of aviate and biplane, although the sport which brought them into use is now less than a half dozen years old? There is good reason why words that are too new should be used with caution: they may not, in truth, be generally known, and even if they are known, their meanings may be indefinite or variable. Still, as has been said before, the danger is never very great.

Perhaps our attitude toward foreign words should be a little more definite. In our study of languages, in our reading of the English literature that was written when the classics were more zealously quoted than they are to-day, and in our travel in foreign countries, we have become acquainted with many words that stay in the memory; and we sometimes fall into the habit of using them as a substitute for English. Or it may be that we take the least degree of pride in using them, since they seem to reveal some breadth of learning. On the contrary, they reveal an absence of good taste, the surest mark of real learning, inasmuch as they usually result in some one's confusion or displeasure. To-day a page that abounds with italicized foreign words is regarded as either pedantic or flippant. Of course, if a foreign phrase which is probably familiar to our readers expresses our meaning better than we could express it in our own tongue, we should not hesitate to use the more exact phrase. In general, however, the practice is as unnecessary as it is inexpedient. He who can find pure English equivalents for affaire de cœur, en gros, l'amour propre, sang froid, ab initio, in statu quo, multum in parvo, rara avis, salus populi, vis-a-vis, les savans, cul de sac, beau monde, and the like, is almost certain