There are many persons who, while they do not violate the rules of technical grammar, habitually indulge in slang, hyperbole, and in many "weeds of speech" which should be pulled up promptly and cast aside. A great many boys and girls, and even some older persons, imagine that the use of slang lends piquancy and force to their conversation. Slang is always an element of weakness. It is bad enough in a man, but in women it is far more questionable. It is not the expression of the refined. To the cultivated taste it is discordant.
Another fault prevalent among girls is the habit of hyperbole. Perfectly, awfully, nice, and splendid, are the four most overworked words, and awfully is the most abused of them all. It is strange, the hold this word has secured in the vocabulary of girls who, in almost all other respects, are considerate in their use of English. Persons are called awfully good, awfully bad, awfully clever, awfully stupid, awfully nice, awfully jolly and awfully kind. It is made to do duty on all occasions and under all circumstances, as though it were the only adverb admissible in good society. Among adjectives, splendid easily ranks as the most popular. To many, everything is splendid, whether it is a flower, a sunset, a dinner, a football game, a friend, a sermon, or a book. Then we are continually hearing that certain things are perfectly splendid, perfectly lovely, perfectly hateful, perfectly glorious, perfectly magnificent and perfectly sweet. How word-stricken society would do without these expressions it is difficult to determine, yet certain it is that the woman who deals recklessly in superlatives demonstrates forthwith that her judgment is dominated by her impulses, that her opinions are of doubtful reliability, and her criticisms valueless.
In a recent number of one of the popular magazines Prof. Brander Matthews has an article on the prevailing indifference in regard to the proper use of words. The points which he emphasizes are these:
The gentleman is never indifferent, never reckless in his language. The sloven in speech is quite as offensive as a sloven in manner and dress. The neat turning of a phrase is as agreeable to the ear as neatness of person is to the refined taste. A man should choose his words at least as carefully as he chooses his clothing; even a hint of the dandy is not objectionable, if it be but a hint. It is even better to go to the extreme of fastidiousness than to indulge the opposite extreme of negligence.
The art of writing letters is but another phase of the same matter. Indeed it is but conversation carried on with the pen, when distance or circumstances prevent the easier method of exchanging ideas by spoken words. It is an art which should be faithfully cultivated by those who desire to please. In social life, in business, in almost every other circumstance of life, we find our pen called into requisition. Yet while it is an almost indispensable accomplishment, it is one which is pitifully neglected. The art of letter-writing is becoming obsolete; that is, the art of writing such letters as enriched the epistolary literature of a former generation. This is unfortunate, as there is nothing that will so stimulate thought, and bring into activity, practical, every-day niceties of phrase as the exercise of this art. Constant drill in letter-writing will tend to take from one's vocabulary words which have no place there, and will accomplish quite as much as any other means to broaden, beautify, and to refine the language at our command, as well as to train the mind to exact habits of thinking. A further important consideration is the charm which "a gem of a letter" has for the delighted recipient.
The indispensable requisites of a good letter are neatness of chirography, simplicity, and grammatical correctness. Defects in any one of these particulars are scarcely pardonable. We cannot all be pretty writers, but we can all write legibly and give to the page the appearance of neatness. Scribbling is inexcusable.
"A scribbled page points to a scribbling mind, while clear, legible handwriting is not only an indication of clear thinking, but a means and promoter of accurate thought. Indeed, simply as a business proposition, one cannot afford to become a slovenly penman."
"And who," says The Philadelphia Record, "does not know the charm of a gracefully worded, legibly written letter, with its wide margins, its clear, black ink and dainty stationery? An art, indeed, is the writing of such a missive; an art which it behooves every woman to cultivate. A hastily written line betraying signs of carelessness, and scrawled on an indifferent sheet of paper is a poor compliment, indeed, to the receiver, and elicits anything but flattering comments upon the writer."
Careless speech is quite bad enough, but the charm of the speaker may be so great as to disarm criticism. The letter, however, the written word, stands on its own merits; "what is writ is writ." There is no graceful vivacity to plead for the writer; no coquetry of manner to distract the glance of the reader from the errors coldly set forth in black and white. Observe, then, the utmost care in inditing an epistle, whether to a friend or foe or to a lover. Never send forth a letter in undress, so to speak, scarcely more than you would present yourself en dishabille before your most formal acquaintances. The one is almost as flagrant as the other.