GRAMMAR-LAND
OR,
Grammar in Fun for the Children of
Schoolroom-shire

COURT GRAMMARLAND

GRAMMAR-LAND
OR,
Grammar in Fun for the Children of Schoolroom-shire

BY
M. L. NESBITT

With Frontispiece and Initials by F. Waddy.

NEW YORK
HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY
1885.

TO ALL LITTLE CHILDREN
WHO THINK GRAMMAR HARD AND DRY,
This Book is Dedicated,
BY ONE WHO LOVES TO SEE
SUNSHINE IN SCHOOLROOM-SHIRE.

PREFACE TO THE THIRD EDITION.

The favourable reception that the former Editions of this little book have met with, calls for a word of acknowledgment. It seems that not only the little folks for whom it was intended, but children of a larger growth have read it with interest; and students, who spend days and nights “with weary eyesight poring over miserable books,” have condescended to turn over these pages, and laughingly admit that the imagination may sow even the dustiest of book-shelves with flowers.

Teachers of the younger classes in schools have found this little volume extremely useful; and it is suggested, that though children will often read it with pleasure by themselves, they will derive much more profit from it when it is made the text-book for a lesson. The simple exercises appended to each chapter will then be found both useful and entertaining.

CONTENTS.

—♦—

GRAMMAR-LAND.

—♦—

INTRODUCTION.
JUDGE GRAMMAR AND HIS SUBJECTS.

JUDGE GRAMMAR RULES IN EVERY LAND.

WHAT is Grammar-land? Where is Grammar-land? Have you ever been to Grammar-land? Wait a minute and you shall hear. You will not find Grammar-land marked on the globe, and I never saw a map of it; but then, who ever saw a map of Fairy-land? and yet you have all heard of that, and know a great deal about it, of course. Well, Grammar-land is a place every bit as real as Fairy-land, and much more important. The Fairy Queen is all very well, and a very great little queen in her way; but Judge Grammar! great, stern, old Judge Grammar, is far mightier than any Fairy Queen, for he rules over real kings and queens down here in Matter-of-fact-land. Our kings and queens, and emperors too, have all to obey Judge Grammar’s laws, or else they would talk what is called bad grammar; and then, even their own subjects would laugh at them, and would say: “Poor things! When they were children, and lived in Schoolroom-shire, they can never have been taken to Grammar-land! How shocking!” And Judge Grammar himself—well, I cannot say what he would do, as I suppose such a thing never really happened; for who could imagine a king or queen saying, “I is,” or “you was,” or “it wasn’t me.” No one speaks in that way except people who have never heard of Judge Grammar.

Ah! I wish you could see him—this great Judge—sitting on his throne in his court, and giving orders about his precious words, which are the riches of Grammar-land. For Judge Grammar says that all the words that you can say belong really to him, and he can do what he likes with them; he is, in fact, King as well as Judge over Grammar-land. Now, you know that when William the Conqueror conquered England he divided the land among his nobles, and they had it for their own so long as they obeyed the king and helped him in his wars. It was just the same with Judge Grammar when he took possession of Grammar-land; he gave all the words to his nine followers, to take for their very own as long as they obeyed him. These nine followers he called the nine Parts-of-Speech, and to one or other of them every word in Grammar-land was given.

They are funny fellows, these nine Parts-of-Speech. You will find out by-and-by which you like best amongst them all. There is rich Mr. Noun, and his useful friend Pronoun; little ragged Article, and talkative Adjective; busy Dr. Verb, and Adverb; perky Preposition, convenient Conjunction, and that tiresome Interjection, the oddest of them all.

Now, as some of these Parts-of-Speech are richer, that is, have more words than others, and as they all like to have as many as they can get, it follows, I am sorry to say, that they are rather given to quarrelling; and so it fell out that one day, when my story begins, they made so much noise, wrangling and jangling in the court, that they woke Judge Grammar up from a long and very comfortable nap.

“What is all this about?” he growled out, angrily. “Brother Parsing! Dr. Syntax! here!”

In an instant the Judge’s two learned counsellors were by his side.

Serjeant Parsing (Brother Parsing, the Judge calls him) has a sharp nose, bright eyes, a little round wig with a tail to it, and an eye-glass. He is very quick and cunning in finding out who people are and what they mean, and making them tell “the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.” It is of no use to say “I don’t know” to Serjeant Parsing. He will question you, and question you, till somehow or other he makes you know, and finds out all about you. When I say he will question you, of course I mean he will question the Parts-of-Speech, for that is his business, and that is why Judge Grammar summoned him. For whenever there is a fuss in Grammar-land, Serjeant Parsing has to find out all about it, and Dr. Syntax has to say what is right or wrong, according to the law.

“Brother Parsing,” said the Judge, “this racket must be stopped. What are they fighting about? I divided the words clearly enough once amongst the nine Parts-of-Speech. Why cannot they keep the peace?”

“My lord,” answered Serjeant Parsing, “the fact is that it is a long time since you portioned out the words, and the Parts-of-Speech since then have been left to do pretty much as they like. Some of them are greedy, and have stolen their neighbours’ words. Some of them have got hold of new words, which the others say they had no right to make; and some of them are even inclined to think that Dr. Syntax is old-fashioned, and need not be obeyed. In fact, unless your lordship takes the matter in hand at once, I am afraid the good old laws of Grammar-land will all go to wreck and ruin.”

“That must never be,” said the Judge, solemnly shaking his wig: “that must never be. We must stop it at once. Go and summon all my court before me.”

“Certainly, my lord,” answered Serjeant Parsing; “but may I ask if there is any Part-of-Speech you wish for in particular?”

“I wish for them all, sir, every one,” replied the Judge. “They shall all come before me, and you shall question them in turn, and make them say what right they have to the titles and the words which they claim; and then if there is any disagreement between them, I will settle the matter once for all.”

“Quite so, my lord,” said Serjeant Parsing; “and shall I invite our friends in Schoolroom-shire?”

“Our friends in Schoolroom-shire? By all means let them come,” replied the Judge. “If we wish to have peace among the Parts-of-Speech it is most important that the people of Matter-of-fact-land should know how to use them well. And as the people of Matter-of-fact-land generally spend at least a part of their lives in Schoolroom-shire, we cannot do better than send our invitation there. Go, Brother Parsing, and request them to come, and to bring their slates and pencils with them, that they may keep an account of what we do, and let our Parts-of-Speech prepare to come before us at once.”

Away went Serjeant Parsing, as quick as thought, and soon the whole court was assembled. There was Judge Grammar on his throne, with a long flowing wig and gorgeous robes. At the table below him sat his two counsellors, Serjeant Parsing and Dr. Syntax. Dr. Syntax is very tall and thin and dark. He has a long thin neck covered up with a stiff black tie, which looks as though it nearly choked him. When he speaks he stands up, looks straight through his spectacles, sticks out his chin, and says his say in a gruff and melancholy voice, as if he were repeating a lesson. He is the terror of all little boys, for he never smiles, and he is so very, very old, that people say he never was young like other folks; that when he was a baby he always cried in Greek, and that his first attempt at talking was in Latin. However that may be, there he sat, side by side with Serjeant Parsing, while the company from Schoolroom-shire, armed with slates and pencils, prepared to listen to the examination that was to take place, and the Parts-of-Speech crowded together at the end of the court, waiting for their names to be called.

CHAPTER I.
MR. NOUN.

COMMON NOUNS
BIRD
HORSE
CAT
PROPER NOUNS
VENUS
ALICE
BOB
FIDO

THE first Part-of-Speech that was called was Mr. Noun. He is a stout big fellow, very well dressed, for he does not mind showing that he is very rich.

As Mr. Noun came forward, Serjeant Parsing rose, put his pen behind his ear, arranged his papers on the table before him, and looking at Mr. Noun through his eye-glass, asked: “What is your name?”

“Name,” answered Mr. Noun.

“Yes, your name?” repeated Serjeant Parsing.

“Name,” again answered Mr. Noun.

“Do not trifle, sir,” said the Judge, sternly; “what is your name? Answer at once, and truly.”

“I have answered truly,” replied Mr. Noun. “My name is Name, for noun means name. The name of everything belongs to me, so I am called Mr. Name, or Mr. Noun, which means the same thing, and all my words are called nouns.”

“The name of everything belongs to you?” asked Serjeant Parsing, in surprise.

“Yes,” answered Mr. Noun, “the name of everything.”

“What? Do you mean to say that the name of everything I can see round me now is one of your words, and is called a noun?”

“I do indeed,” said Mr. Noun. “The name of everything you can see, or touch, or taste, or smell, or hear, belongs to me.”

“What,” said Serjeant Parsing, “is this desk yours then, and the ink and the pen and the window?”

“The words that name them are all mine,” said Mr. Noun. “Of course I have nothing to do with the things. No gentleman in Grammar-land has anything to do with things, only with words; and I assure you, you cannot name anything that you can see, or touch, or taste, or smell, or hear, without using one of my words. Desk, pen, ink, window, water, wine, fire, smoke, light, lightning, thunder, a taste, a smell, a noise, all these words belong to me, and are called nouns.”

“I see,” said Serjeant Parsing; “you can hear thunder, and smell smoke, and taste wine. And I suppose dinner and tea are yours also?”

“Certainly, the words breakfast, dinner, and tea, are mine,” replied Mr. Noun. “The things are what the people live upon in Schoolroom-shire, but they could not name what they eat without using my words. The servant would have to make signs to let people know that dinner was ready; she could not say so unless I allowed her to use my noun dinner.”

“Well,” said Serjeant Parsing, “if you have the name of everything we can see, touch, taste, smell, or hear, all I can say is, I hope you are satisfied, and do not claim any more words besides.”

“Indeed,” replied Mr. Noun, drawing himself proudly up, “I have not mentioned nearly all my words. I told you at first that I have the name of everything, and there are plenty of things that you know about, although you cannot see, or touch, or taste, or smell, or hear them. For instance, love, or anger, or happiness. You can feel them in your heart, and know they are there, although you cannot touch them with your fingers, or taste them with your tongue, or find them out by any of your five senses.”

“Do you mean to say, then,” asked Serjeant Parsing, “that when a child feels naughty in its heart——?”

“Naughtiness is mine,” said Mr. Noun; “the word naughtiness, for it is the name of the something bad that the child feels.”

“And when it is kind?”

“Kindness is mine, because it is the name of the something kind and nice it feels there. I have a good many more words that end in ness, and that are the names of things you can find out about, and talk about, though you cannot tell what shape or colour or smell or taste they have; like cleverness, silliness, idleness, ugliness, quickness.”

“I see,” said Serjeant Parsing. “You cannot tell what shape or colour cleverness is, but you can soon find out whether a boy has any of it by the way in which he does his lessons.”

“Yes,” said Mr. Noun; “and the names of his lessons are mine too, for the lessons are things that you can learn about; geography, history, writing, arithmetic, all these names belong to me.”

“Really Mr. Noun,” said Serjeant Parsing, “you do claim a big share of words. You will be making out that the names of persons belong to you next.”

“So they do,” replied Mr. Noun; “no matter who the persons are, their names belong to me. I have the name of every person in the world from good Queen Victoria on her throne to the raggedest beggar-boy in the street. There is not a child in Schoolroom-shire whose name is not a noun. And I have not the names of people only, but of all pet dogs, cats, birds, horses, or rabbits: Fido, Tabby, Bright-eye, Tiny, Shag, and any other pet names you can think of. Indeed, I am very particular about such names. I call them proper nouns, and expect them always to be written with a capital letter.”

“Proper nouns?” repeated Serjeant Parsing. “Then what are the other nouns called?”

“They are only common nouns,” answered Mr. Noun, carelessly.

“Then all names are common nouns, except the names of persons or animals, are they?” asked Serjeant Parsing.

“No, no, no,” said Mr. Noun, quite crossly: “the name of an animal is not a proper noun unless it is the own special name of one animal, that marks it from other animals of the same kind. Dog is the name given to all dogs, they have the name in common between them; but Fido is the name of one particular dog, his own proper name by which his master calls him. So dog is a common noun, Fido is a proper noun.”

“Oh, I see,” said Serjeant Parsing. “Then the particular name of any person or animal is a proper noun, and all other names are common nouns.”

“I never said that,” exclaimed Mr. Noun. “How very stup—— I mean, you do not understand me, my dear sir. I never said that the particular name of a place or thing was not a proper noun too. Every particular and special name, whether of a person, an animal, a place, or a thing, is a proper noun. Every place has its own proper name, or should have. Every country and mountain and river and town in Europe is named with a proper noun. Why, you would not call England a common noun, I should hope? There are plenty of countries in the world, but there is only one country that is called by the proper name of dear old England. Country is a common noun, all countries have it in common, but when you want to speak of any particular country you use the proper nouns, England, Scotland, Ireland, France, etc., etc.”

“Well, I think we can understand that the particular names of places are proper nouns,” said Serjeant Parsing; “but you spoke about things also. Surely things have no proper names? You do not give names to chairs and tables, and call them Mr. Leanback or Squire Mahogany?”

“Not exactly,” answered Mr. Noun; “we do not name chairs and tables with proper names, but what do you say to houses? They are things, are they not? And you may have heard of such names as Marlborough House, Springfield Cottage, Ivy Lodge.”

“Well, no other things besides houses have proper names, have they?” said Serjeant Parsing.

“Books are things,” said Mr. Noun, “and they all have proper names. So have ships and boats, Warrior, Seafoam, Fairy, or something of that sort. I have heard of a cannon which was called Roarer, and you ought to know that King Arthur’s sword was named Excalibur. Indeed, you can give a proper name to anything you like that you want to distinguish from other things of the same sort.”

“And all such proper names, or proper nouns, as you call them, must be written with a capital letter, must they? Whether they are the names of persons, animals, places, or things, little or big?”

“Sir,” answered Mr. Noun, “littleness or bigness makes no difference. If you had a pet fly, and called it Silver-wing, Silver-wing must be written with a capital S, because it is a proper noun.”

“Well, Mr. Noun,” said Serjeant Parsing, “your ideas of what is proper seem to me rather peculiar, but I suppose Dr. Syntax has no objection, so I will say nothing.”

Dr. Syntax silently bowed his head.

The Judge then spoke. “Mr. Noun, you have claimed a great many words, and it remains to be seen whether all the other Parts-of-Speech agree to these words being yours. In order to find out whether they do or no, I will ask our friends from Schoolroom-shire to write out, each of them, a list of twenty names, the names of anything they can see, hear, touch, taste, smell, or think about, or the proper names of any persons, animals, places, or things they know; and when next we meet I will read out what they have written, and we shall hear whether any one has any good reason to give why they should not be called nouns.”

The Judge then rose from his seat, and every one left the court.

CHAPTER II.
LITTLE ARTICLE.

the a
LITTLE·ARTICLE

WHEN Judge Grammar next took his seat in court, a number of papers covered with words were handed up to him by Serjeant Parsing.

“They are the lists of names, my lord,” he said, “which you asked the people of Schoolroom-shire to write for you.”

“Very good,” said the Judge. “I will read some of the words aloud, and if any one thinks that they are not nouns, let him come forward and say so. And he began to read: the garden, the house, the sky, a book, a bird, a fly,” when suddenly he was interrupted by a sound of bitter sobbing and crying.

“What is the matter?” he asked. “Who dares to interrupt the court?”

“It is this tiresome little Article, your lordship,” said Serjeant Parsing, pushing forward a ragged little fellow, who was rubbing both fists into his eyes and crying bitterly. “He says he is being cheated, my lord; that he has only two words of his own in all Grammar-land, and that they are being used on these lists as if they belonged to Mr. Noun.”

“Bring him up before me,” said the Judge. “What is your name, sir?”

“My name is Article, or Little-joint,” replied the little fellow. “I have only two words in all Grammar-land, a and the. I lend them to Mr. Noun whenever he asks for them fairly; but, your lordship, it is very hard,” and here he began to cry again, “that they should be read as your lordship was reading them just now, as if they belonged to Mr. Noun, when he is so rich, and I am so very, very poor.”

“Is it true, Brother Parsing,” asked the Judge, “that little Article is always ready to wait upon Mr. Noun?”

“Quite true, my lord,” answered Serjeant Parsing. “Indeed, I have often been able to discover Mr. Noun by catching sight of little Article running before him, for whenever you see an a or a the, you may be sure that Mr. Noun will have a word of his own in somewhere near. The chief use of little Article is to point out that a noun is coming, for you may be sure that if you can put an a or a the before a word, that word is a noun, as a bird, the sky.”

“And do you use him as much before your pet proper nouns, sir?” asked Judge Grammar of Mr. Noun.

“No, your lordship,” replied Mr. Noun, “that I do not. Indeed, I cannot see that little Article is of much use to me at any time; but he has an old habit of coming with me wherever I go, and when I have no one else I do not mind having him.”

“Well,” said Judge Grammar, “if you do have him, take care that you use him well; and pray, Brother Parsing, tell the Schoolroom-shire children to give him a separate mark for himself, and not to put his words with Mr. Noun’s.”

“Certainly, my lord,” said Serjeant Parsing, “but I have one question to ask first. This little Article said that he had only two words in all Grammar-land, a and the. I wish to ask him what he says to an, as you say an egg, an apple? Surely an belongs to him also.”

Article was just beginning to answer when he suddenly stopped, turned pale, trembled, and looked as if he would have tumbled to pieces in terror, for he saw Dr. Syntax rise.

Dr. Syntax stood upright, looking very tall and thin and black: he spoke in very stern voice, but all he said was, “An is only used before a vowel or an h mute.” Then he sat down again.

“Ah!” said Serjeant Parsing, drawing a long breath, “thank you. Now, little Article, say what you have to say.”

“I have only to say,” remarked Article, recovering his courage, “that a and an are really one and the same word; a is only an with his coat off. I like to use it best as a without its coat, but before a vowel or an h mute I am obliged,” and here Article gave a frightened look at Dr. Syntax, “I am obliged to keep its coat on and call it an.”

“And do you know what you mean by a vowel or an h mute?” asked Judge Grammar.

“O yes, my lord: there are five vowels, a, e, i, o, u,” answered Article.

“And what is an h mute?” asked the Judge.

“An h that is not sounded, as in an hour, an honour,” answered Article, rather impatiently, for he was getting very tired of being questioned.

“And you are to use an before any word that begins with a vowel, a, e, i, o, or u, or an h mute, are you?” asked the Judge.

“Yes, my lord,” said Article, “I told you so before.”

“Give us some examples of words beginning with each of these,” said the Judge, “and show us how you use an before them.”

Article held up one hand, with the thumb and four fingers stretched out, and pointing to each one in turn, beginning with the thumb, he answered: “An apple, an eagle, an idol, an ox, and an ugly, uncomfortable, unkind old Judge, to keep me here so long answering questions.” Saying which, little ragged Article turned and scampered off as fast as his legs could carry him.

Serjeant Parsing then said that as Article had behaved so badly, he hoped the Judge would give him a severe punishment, by allowing the children of Schoolroom-shire to use his words as often as they liked in their new lists.

“Certainly,” said Judge Grammar. “I request that each of you will write six new nouns, and will use an article before every one of them.”

The court then rose, after Serjeant Parsing had handed the Schoolroom-shire children the following verse, begging them to find out all the nouns and articles in it:—

Once there was a little boy,

With curly hair and pleasant eye;

A boy who always spoke the truth,

And never, never told a lie.

CHAPTER III.
MR. PRONOUN.

Allow me to go
instead of you—Mr.
Noun,
it will save trouble
NOUNS
M^R. PRONOUN SPEAKS

WHEN the court next assembled, the Judge read aloud all the nouns and articles on the lists, casting a stern glance at little Article at each a, an, or the that he came to, in order to show that they were put in as a punishment for Article’s impudent behaviour the day before. Poor little Article said nothing, and no one having objected to any of the words, the Judge said: “Mr. Noun and Article, since no one finds fault with the words that you claim, I declare them to be lawfully yours. Now, stand aside, and let Mr. Pronoun come forward.”

At these words Mr. Pronoun stood before the Judge. He is something like Mr. Noun, only he is thinner, and looks as if he worked harder.

“Mr. Pronoun?” said Serjeant Parsing, standing up to begin his questioning.

Mr. Pronoun bowed.

“Why are you called Pronoun, sir, and what words do you possess?”

“I am called Pronoun, because I often do the work for my rich neighbour, Mr. Noun. Pro means instead of, so pronoun means instead of noun, and my words are called pronouns because they stand instead of nouns. Mr. Noun, though he is so rich, does not like to have his words used over and over again—he says it wears them out; so to save trouble I put in my little words, which do just as well.”

“And you are not afraid of your words being worn out?” asked the Judge.

“O dear no! my lord,” answered Pronoun. “I think my words are like the iron rails on the railway—the more they are used the brighter they look; it is only the idle ones that get rusty and spoilt. And it is not many of my words that get rusty, I can tell you, my lord. Serjeant Parsing knows how he was one day trying to make sense of Dr. Faustus without me, and what a muddle he made of it. If he will kindly repeat it now, I will show you.”

So Serjeant Parsing said:—

Dr. Faustus was a good man;

Dr. Faustus whipped Dr. Faustus’s scholars now and then

When Dr. Faustus whipped the scholars Dr. Faustus made the scholars dance

Out of England into France.

“There!” said Pronoun. “Let any one try to sing that, and he will find how awkward it is. Now, if you will use my little he or his, instead of saying Dr. Faustus so often, and put them instead of scholars, it will sound much better. Just listen. Please, Mr. Parsing, say it again, and I will come in when I am wanted.”

So Serjeant Parsing said: “Dr. Faustus was a good man.”

“He whipped his,” shouted Pronoun.

“He whipped his scholars now and then. When——”

“He whipped them,” shouted Pronoun.

“When he whipped them,” continued Serjeant Parsing.

“He made them dance,” cried Pronoun.

“When he whipped them he made them dance,” repeated Serjeant Parsing, “out of England into France.”

“Ah,” said the Judge, “yes! It is certainly better so. Mr. Noun’s words are not used so often, and all parties are pleased. Then he, his, and them, are pronouns, as they stand instead of nouns. Now tell us what other words you have, Mr. Pronoun.”

“First of all, my lord, I have words which are used instead of the names of people when they are talking of themselves, such as I or me, we or us. When a person is speaking of himself he does not name his own name, but says instead, I or me. Except, indeed, very little children, who say, ‘Baby wants more,’ or, ‘Give baby milk.’ Reasonable persons say, ‘I want more,’ ‘Give me some milk.’”

“The Queen says we in speaking of herself,” remarked the Judge.

“Yes, my lord,” said Pronoun, “the Queen is of course allowed to use we or us when she means only herself; but other people do not use we or us unless they mean more than one person.”

“Then I or me, we or us, are the pronouns used instead of the names of people speaking of themselves, are they, Mr. Pronoun?” inquired Serjeant Parsing.

“Certainly,” replied Pronoun: “and the words used instead of the names of persons you are speaking to are thou, or thee, and you. When I am speaking to you, Mr. Parsing, I say, I tell you; I do not say, I tell Serjeant Parsing.”

“Quite so,” answered Serjeant Parsing; “but why do you not say, I tell thee.”

“Why, the fact is,” replied Mr. Pronoun, “that thou and thee really stand for one person only, and you stands for more than one. But long ago people took it into their heads to fancy that it would be very polite to talk to one person as if he were at least as good as two. It is a very vulgar thing to be only one person, but to be two people rolled into one would be very grand indeed. So when a man was talking to a grand neighbour he called him you instead of thou, and the grand neighbour was so much pleased that it came to be the fashion to say you to every one, and my poor little thou and thee were quite set aside.”

“And are they never used now?” said Serjeant Parsing.

“O yes, they are used,” said Mr. Pronoun; “but as people neglected them in former days, I won’t have them used in common now. You is quite good enough for everyday talk.”

“Well,” said Serjeant Parsing, “you have shown that I or me, we or us, thou or thee, and you, are all your words. Have you any others?”

“Plenty more,” answered Pronoun. “I have he, she, it, and they, to stand instead of persons or things you are talking about.

Tom took Maria on the ice;

It broke, and she fell in;

He got a rope, and in a trice

He pulled her out again.

If they had both been drowned, you know,

Folks would have said, “I told you so.”

“There it stands for ice, and she for Maria, and he for Tom, and they for Tom and Maria together. So you see clearly that he, she, it, and they are pronouns.”

“I do not think any one could deny it,” said Serjeant Parsing. “Have you any other words?”

“O yes, there are plenty more words that stand instead of nouns. My, thy, his, our, your, their, which are used to show that something belongs to the person these words stand instead of. Just as instead of saying Dr. Faustus’s scholars, we said his scholars; and as in speaking to you, my lord, I should not say Judge Grammar’s wig, but your wig.”

“You need not say anything about my wig,” said the Judge, rather testily. “Mind your own words, sir, and tell us what others you have.”

“I have who and which,” replied Pronoun. “Instead of saying, ‘I met a man, the man had no eyes,’ you say, ‘I met a man who had no eyes;’ so my little who saves Mr. Noun’s man. Instead of saying, ‘I will tell you a tale, a tale was told to me,’ you can say, ‘I will tell you a tale which was told to me;’ so which stands instead of tale.”

“We understand,” said the Judge. “No more of your tales now, if you please. You have no more words, I suppose?”

“Indeed I have, my lord. This and that, these and those, are pronouns. For when you say, ‘Look at this,’ you mean a picture, or a sum, or anything else that this may happen to stand for; and when you say, ‘Take that,’ that stands for a halfpenny, or a kick, or anything else you may be giving at the time. And if you sing to a child—if your lordship ever does sing—which does not seem very likely——”

“Mind your words, sir,” said the Judge, again. “If we sing what?”

“If you sing ‘This is the way the lady goes,’ then this stands for the jogging up and down of my knee, the way the lady goes.”

“Really, Mr. Pronoun,” said the Judge, “you are very childish. The Schoolroom-shire people are quite ashamed of you. We shall ask for no more of your words to-day, for I suppose, after all, they are easy enough to find out.”

“All words that stand instead of nouns belong to me,” said Pronoun; “but they are not quite so easy to find out as you suppose. Those that stand instead of persons, like I, thou, he, we, you, they, any one can find out. I have told you about a good many others, and if Serjeant Parsing wishes to discover the rest for himself——”

“He does, sir,” said the Judge, who was getting very tired and hungry. “You may go. I will only ask you to assist our Schoolroom-shire friends in making the following verses right. They read very queerly at present; but if you can set them right, I think we shall agree that what you have been saying of your words is true.”

The Judge then wished them all good-morning, and went to lunch off a few pages of dictionary.

Here are the verses.

There was a man, the man had no eyes,

And the man went out to view the skies;

The man saw a tree with apples on,

The man took no apples off, and left no apples on.

Little Bo-peep has lost Bo-peep’s sheep,

And does not know where to find the sheep;

Leave the sheep alone till the sheep come home,

And bring the sheep’s tails behind the sheep.

Matilda dashed the spectacles away

To wipe Matilda’s tingling eyes;

And as in twenty bits the spectacles lay,

Matilda’s grandmamma Matilda spies.

CHAPTER IV.
SERJEANT PARSING’S VISIT.

SERGEANT
PARSING

SERJEANT PARSING paid a visit to Schoolroom-shire.

“My young friends,” he said, in his most amiable voice, “may I trouble you with a little piece of business for Judge Grammar to-day. I have here a story, and the Judge requests that you will kindly find out how many of the words in it belong to Mr. Noun, how many to Mr. Pronoun, and how often little ragged Article comes in. The best way to do this is to get your slates, and mark off a piece for Mr. Noun, another for Mr. Pronoun, and a corner somewhere for little Article. Write their names in each. Now I will read the story, and whenever I come to a noun, give Mr. Noun a mark; whenever I read a pronoun, give a mark to Mr. Pronoun; and if I read an a, an, or the, put down a mark to little Article. When it is finished we will count up and see who has the most marks.”

Serjeant Parsing then read the following story:—

“Some sailors belonging to a ship of war had a monkey on board. The monkey had often watched the men firing off a cannon, so one day when they were all at dinner he thought he should like to fire it too. So he took a match, as he had seen the men do, struck it, put it to the touch-hole, and looked into the mouth of the cannon, to see the ball come out. The ball did come out, and alas! alas! the poor little monkey fell down dead.”

CHAPTER V.
MR. ADJECTIVE.

A BRAVE PRINCE
A GOOD QUEEN
ADJECTIVES
QUALIFY
NOUNS

THE next Part-of-Speech called up before Judge Grammar was Mr. Adjective.

“My young friends in Schoolroom-shire,” said Serjeant Parsing, “must know Mr. Adjective well. He is the greatest chatterbox and the veriest gossip that ever lived. You never in all your life, my lord, knew any one who could say so much about one thing as Mr. Adjective. Mr. Noun cannot mention a word, but Mr. Adjective is ready to tell all about it, whether it is little or big, blue or green, good or bad, and mischief enough he does in Schoolroom-shire. For instance, if Noun mentions Willy’s pen—‘Nasty, spluttering, cross-nibbed thing,’ whispers Adjective, and Willy thinks that is why he wrote such a bad copy, and did not dot his i’s. If Mr. Noun points out pussy, who is coming into the room, purring and rubbing her head against the leg of each chair as she passes, Adjective whispers that she is a ‘dear, sweet, soft, warm, little pet,’ so Milly leaves off her sums to pick her up and play with her. Ann, the housemaid, finds dirty boot-marks on her nice clean stairs, and as soon as she sees Tom she tells him he is a ‘tiresome, untidy, disobedient, and naughty boy,’ not knowing that Mr. Adjective was whispering all those words in her ear. Indeed, Mr. Adjective causes more quarrels in Schoolroom-shire, and other places too, than any one can tell. Only yesterday Jane and Lucy had a quarrel, I hear, because Jane pulled the arm off Lucy’s doll. If Adjective had not put into Lucy’s head to call Jane naughty and unkind, Jane would not have answered that Lucy was cross and disagreeable. She would most likely have said, ‘I beg your pardon, I did not mean to do it,’ and they would have been friends again directly. See how much mischief is caused by talkative, gossiping Mr. Adjective.”

“Really, Mr. Parsing,” remarked Adjective, now putting in his word for the first time, “you have made a long speech to show how mischievous I am. Pray, have you nothing to say about the good that my kind, loving words do?”

“Oh, certainly, my dear sir,” said Serjeant Parsing, suddenly changing his tone. “When you like any one you are a very good-natured fellow, and can say all sorts of sweet things. I heard you in Schoolroom-shire telling Mary that her mamma is her own dearest, kindest, sweetest mother—that baby is a bright, bonny little darling—that Fido is a good, faithful old doggie—and that home is the happiest place in the whole wide world. Oh, yes,” continued Serjeant Parsing, “you can call people good names as well as bad.”

“I do not call people names,” said Adjective, indignantly. “I qualify them. I could qualify you, Mr. Parsing, and say you are an impertinent, rude——”

“That will do, Mr. Adjective,” interrupted the Judge. “We understand what you mean by qualifying. But tell us, are your words always placed before nouns?”

“Oh, no, my lord,” answered Adjective. “They can, almost all of them, be used before a noun, but they are often used after it, in this way:—

The sky is blue,

The sun is bright,

My words are true,

The snow is white.

“You could also say, blue sky, bright sun, true words, white snow, but it does not sound so well, I think. And when a pronoun stands instead of a noun, and my words qualify it——”

“Oh, you qualify pronouns as well as nouns, do you?” asked Serjeant Parsing.

“I am obliged to do so sometimes,” said Mr. Adjective, rather sulkily. “I will not have my words used before a pronoun, as they are before a noun. You can say:—

I am right,

And you are wrong;

It is late,

And we are strong.

But you must not say: right I, wrong you, late it, or strong we.”

“I should think not,” said Serjeant Parsing, laughing. “Then we are to understand that adjectives are used to qualify nouns and pronouns, and that they may be used before a noun or after it, but not before a pronoun.”

“Quite right, so far,” said Mr. Adjective; “but I can do other things besides qualifying nouns.”

“What can you do?”

“I can tell how many there are of the thing the noun names, one, two, three, four, and so on. And whether the thing is the first, second, third, or fourth, and so on. And whether there are some things, many things, few things, more things, no things.”

“And all these words are adjectives, are they?”

“Yes,” answered Adjective. “All words that can be put before thing or things are adjectives.”

“A thing, the thing,” remarked little Article, looking up with a cunning smile at Adjective. “A and the are both articles.”

“A and the don’t count, of course,” said Adjective, impatiently. “Besides, they were adjectives once, people say, only they got so worn out, that I let my ragged little cousin Article have them. But except a and the, there is no word that you can put before thing or things that is not an adjective. A beautiful thing, an ugly thing, bad things, good things, green things, yellow things, large things, little things; and so you can say, one thing, two things, some things, any things; and also, this thing, that thing, these things, those things.”

“That seems a very easy way of finding out an adjective,” remarked the Judge. “I hope it is a correct way.”

“Indeed it is, my lord,” said Adjective, earnestly. “See, I can give you many more examples.

A lovely, graceful, beautiful thing,

A useful, homely, dutiful thing;

Foolish, childish, useless things;

Handsome, rich, and priceless things.”

“My lord,” said Mr. Noun, coming forward and speaking in a solemn voice, “I accuse Mr. Adjective of stealing, and wish him to be sent to prison.”

“Indeed!” said the Judge; “but he must be tried first, and you must prove him guilty before I have him punished. What do you say he has stolen?”

“My lord, he is constantly stealing my words, and only just now he used these without my leave, in open court: love, grace, beauty, use, home, duty.”

“Enough,” said the Judge. “I certainly heard him use some such words only just now. Critics,” he called to the policemen, for that is the name they have in Grammar-land, “seize Mr. Adjective, and keep him safe until the court meets again, when he shall be tried for stealing.” Then turning to the people of Schoolroom-shire, the Judge continued, “My friends, I shall be much obliged if you will look over the following story, and strike out of it all the words belonging to Mr. Adjective. I cannot allow them to remain side by side with other words, until it is proved that Mr. Adjective is not guilty of stealing them.”

The Judge then rose, and poor Mr. Adjective was led out of the court, with his hands bound.

The following is the story which the Judge sent to the people of Schoolroom-shire.

THE MAIDEN PRINCE.

A long, long time ago, there lived in a grey old castle, a widowed queen, who had one only child, a beautiful bright boy. “My good husband was killed in the terrible war,” said the timid queen, “and if my dear son grows up to be a strong man, I fear that he will go to the cruel wars, too, and be killed. So he shall learn nothing about rough war, but shall be brought up like a simple maiden.” So she taught him all maidenly duties, to spin, and to weave, and to sew, and she thought he was too simple and quiet to wish to go to war; but one day there came to the great castle gate a noble knight riding a gallant charger. “Come,” he cried to the young prince, “come, follow me. I ride to fight with the wicked and strong who are oppressing the weak and the poor.” Up sprang, in a moment, the fair young boy, flung aside his girlish work, seized his father’s battered sword, and leaped into the saddle behind the noble knight. “Farewell, dear mother,” he cried, “no more girlish work for me. I must be a brave man, as my father was, and conquer or die in the rightful cause.” Then the foolish queen saw that it was useless to try to make a daring boy into a timid maiden.

CHAPTER VI.
MR. ADJECTIVE TRIED FOR STEALING.

ful
like
ly
y
ous
less
en
ern
CLEVER M^R. ADJECTIVE

THERE was great excitement in the court the next day; and when every one was assembled, except Adjective, the Judge called out: “Bring the prisoner in;” and poor Adjective was led in between two Critics, with his hands tied behind him, and placed before the Judge.

Serjeant Parsing rose, and began to question him.

“Is your name Adjective?” he said. “It is,” answered Adjective.

“And you possess all the adjectives in Grammar-land?”

“I do.”

“What is an adjective?”

“A word used to qualify a noun.”

“What is a noun?”

“Please, my lord, need I answer that?” asked Adjective.

“Certainly,” replied the Judge.

“It is not fair,” said Adjective; “nouns are not my words.”

“But you must know what a noun is, in order that you may use your adjectives properly.”

“Of course I know what a noun is—it is a name, the name of anything.”

“Then do you know the difference between a noun and an adjective?” asked Serjeant Parsing.

“Certainly. A noun is the name of a thing. An adjective tells you something about the thing the noun has named; whether it is large or small, or what colour it is, or how much there is of it, or whether there are few things or many, or something of that sort.”

“Quite so; but can you find out at once, without much thinking, whether a word is a noun or an adjective?”

“If you can put an article before a word, then it is a noun,” answered Adjective; “as, a man, the dog.”

“Then when I say, ‘Pity the poor,’ of course poor is a noun, is it?”

“No,” said Adjective, quickly; “poor is my word, I know, for you can say poor child, a poor thing. ‘Pity the poor’ really means, ‘Pity the poor people;’ but Mr. Noun is so stingy, that when he thinks the sentence will be understood without his word, he just leaves it out, and then people say the noun is understood.”

“Exactly so; but your way of finding out a noun does not answer, you see, for the first time I try it, you tell me the word I have found is an adjective.”

“It always answers unless there happens to be a word understood,” replied Adjective, “and then it answers if you use your reason; for any one would know that you are not asked to pity a thing called a poor, but to pity poor people. But it is not fair, my lord,” continued Adjective, turning to the Judge. “Here am I, a poor prisoner, unjustly accused of stealing, and Mr. Parsing is trying to puzzle me as much as he can.”

“Not at all,” replied Serjeant Parsing. “I only want you to be sure that you know clearly the difference between a noun and an adjective.”

“I do,” answered Adjective, “quite clearly.”

“Well, then, answer this question. What is the word beauty?”

“Beauty?” repeated Adjective, getting rather red; “beauty is a noun.”

“Yes,” said Serjeant Parsing; “and grace, and home, and duty?”

“They are all nouns,” answered Adjective, looking uncomfortable.

“Yes; now another question. What is beautiful?”

“Beautiful?” repeated Adjective, looking very red now; “beautiful is an adjective.”

“Very well. Now, Mr. Adjective,” said Serjeant Parsing, “kindly tell me how you got the adjective beautiful?”

“I made it,” answered Adjective, with his eyes on the ground.

“How did you make it?”

“I stuck ful on to beauty. When I want to say a thing is full of beauty I call it beautiful.”

“And how did you get beauty, since it belongs to Mr. Noun?” asked Serjeant Parsing.

“I took it,” replied Adjective, still looking down.

“Which means to say that you stole it. It is quite clear that you stole it, and that you did the same to grace, home, duty, and others, to make graceful, homely, dutiful, and the rest. My lord, I think I need say nothing more: the prisoner himself owns that he took these words; it only remains for you to give him his punishment.”

The Judge looked very grave, and was beginning to say, “Mr. Adjective, I am very sorry——” when Serjeant Parsing interrupted him, and said:—