No word is proper that does not express the true meaning. For instance, it is not right to call a township a town. A township is a section of land that may consist entirely of forests and farms, and may not comprise even a small village or hamlet. A town resembles a city in being closely built up with streets of adjoining houses. Men cannot go fishing or hunting in a town, though they may in a township. We are surprised to find this misapplication of the word among some of the most distinguished of the New England literati. Perhaps it explains Jonathan’s perplexity in one of the old Yankee Doodle songs:
“He said he couldn’t see the town,
There were so many houses.”
We hope it is not necessary to caution our readers against the most provincial of Yankee provincialisms, such as, “I hadn’t ought,” or “I shouldn’t ought”—or “It warn’t,” instead of “It was not”—or the exclamations, “Do tell!” or “I want to know,” ejaculated as a token of surprise the moment after you have told, and made known. The common English habit, or rather a habit of the common English, of using continually the words “you know,” and “you know,” is very tiresome, particularly when they are talking of something that you cannot possibly be acquainted with. Check them by saying, “No, I do not know.” They also make great use of the word “monstrous”—ugly as that word is. Do not imitate them in saying that you are “monstrous glad,” or “monstrous sorry,” or “monstrous tired,” or that a young lady is “monstrous pretty.” We have heard even “monstrous little.”
We advise our New England friends to eschew, both in speaking and writing, all Yankee phrases that do not convey the exact meaning of the words. For instance, to “turn out the tea,” instead of to “pour it out.” There can be no turn given, in this process, to the spout or handle of the tea-pot. On the contrary, it cannot pour well unless it is held straight. To “cut the eggs,” instead of to beat them. The motion of beating eggs does not cut them. “Braiding eggs,” is still worse. But we believe that this braiding is not the same as cutting. What is it?
Two young officers were travelling in the far West, when they stopped to take supper at a small road-side tavern, kept by a very rough Yankee woman. The landlady, in a calico sun-bonnet, and bare feet, stood at the head of the table to pour out. She enquired of her guests, “if they chose long sweetening, or short sweetening in their coffee.” The first officer, supposing that “long sweetening” meant a large portion of that article, chose it accordingly. What was his dismay when he saw their hostess dip her finger deep down into an earthen jar of honey that stood near her, and then stir it (the finger) round in the coffee. His companion, seeing this, preferred “short sweetening.” Upon which the woman picked up a large lump of maple sugar that lay in a brown paper on the floor beside her, and biting off a piece, put it into his cup. Both the gentlemen dispensed with coffee that evening. This anecdote we heard from the sister of one of those officers.
“Emptyings” is not a good name for yeast. “Up chamber, up garret, down cellar,” are all wrong. Why not say, “up in the chamber, up in the garret, down in the kitchen, down in the cellar?” &c. Why should a mirthful fit of laughter be called “a gale!” “Last evening we were all in such a gale!”
Snow and ice are not the same. Therefore a snowball should not be called an ice-ball, which latter might be a very dangerous missile.
Pincushions are pincushions, and not pin-balls, unless they are of a globular shape. If in the form of hearts, diamonds, &c., they are not balls.
When you are greatly fatigued, say so—and not that you are “almost beat out.” When the Yankees are “beat out,” the English are quite “knocked up.” The English are “starved with cold”—Americans only starve with hunger. They may perish with cold; but unless hunger is added, they will not starve.