Percival Leigh - The Comic English Grammar - A New And Facetious Introduction To The English Tongue

Deer Jemes if yow want a Pardoner for Better or for wus nows

Your Time dont think i Behave despicable for tis my Luv for yu as makes Me take this Stepp.

please to Burn this Letter when Red and excuse the scralls and Blotches witch is Caused by my Teers i remain till deth

Yure on Happy Vallentine jane you No who .

poscrip nex sunday Is my sunday out And i shall be Att the corner of Wite Street at a quawter pas Sevn.

Wen This U. C. remember Mee j. g.

Now, to proceed with Orthography, we may remark, that a letter is the least part of a word.

Of a comic letter an instance has already been given. Dr. Johnson's letter to Lord Chesterfield is a capital letter.

The letters of the Alphabet are the representatives of articulate sounds.

The Alphabet is a Republic of Letters.

There are many things in this world erroneously as well as vulgarly compared to "bricks." In the case of the letters of the Alphabet, however, the comparison is just; they constitute the fabric of a language, and grammar is the mortar. The wonder is that there should be so few of them. The English letters are twenty-six in number. There is nothing like beginning at the beginning; and we shall now therefore enumerate them, with the view also of rendering their insertion subsidiary to mythological instruction, in conformity with the plan on which some account of the Heathen Deities and ancient heroes is prefixed or subjoined to a Dictionary. We present the reader with a form of Alphabet composed in humble imitation of that famous one, which, while appreciable by the dullest taste, and level to the meanest capacity, is nevertheless that by which the greatest minds have been agreeably inducted into knowledge.

A, was Apollo, the god of the carol,

B, stood for Bacchus, astride on his barrel;

C, for good Ceres, the goddess of grist,

D, was Diana, that wouldn't be kiss'd;

E, was nymph Echo, that pined to a sound,

F, was sweet Flora, with buttercups crown'd;

G, was Jove's pot-boy, young Ganymede hight,

H, was fair Hebe, his barmaid so tight;

I, little Io, turn'd into a cow,

J, jealous Juno, that spiteful old sow;

K, was Kitty, more lovely than goddess or muse;

L, Lacooon – I wouldn't have been in his shoes!

M, was blue-eyed Minerva, with stockings to match,

N, was Nestor, with grey beard and silvery thatch;

O, was lofty Olympus, King Jupiter's shop,

P, Parnassus, Apollo hung out on its top;

Q, stood for Quirites, the Romans, to wit;

R, for rantipole Roscius, that made such a hit;

S, for Sappho, so famous for felo-de-se,

T, for Thales the wise, F. R. S. and M. D:

U, was crafty Ulysses, so artful a dodger,

V, was hop-a-kick Vulcan, that limping old codger;

Wenus-Venus I mean-with a W begins,

(Veil, if I ham a Cockney, wot need of your grins?)

X, was Xantippe, the scratch-cat and shrew,

Y, I don't know what Y was, whack me if I do!

Z was Zeno the Stoic, Zenobia the clever,

And Zoilus the critic, whose fame lasts forever.

Letters are divided into Vowels and Consonants.

The vowels are capable of being perfectly uttered by themselves. They are, as it were, independent members of the Alphabet, and like independent members elsewhere, form a small minority. The vowels are a, e, i, o, u , and sometimes w and y .

An I. O. U. is a more pleasant thing to have, than it is to give.

A blow in the stomach is very likely to W up.

W is a consonant when it begins a word, as "Wicked

Will Wiggins whacked his wife with a whip but in every other place it is a vowel, as crawling, drawling, sawney, screwing, Jew. Y follows the same rule.

A consonant is an articulate sound; but, like an old bachelor, if it exists alone, it exists to no purpose.

It cannot be perfectly uttered without the aid of a vowel; and even then the vowel has the greatest share in the production of the sound. Thus a vowel joined to a consonant becomes, so to speak, a "better half: " or at all events very strongly resembles one.

A dipthong is the union of two vowels in one sound, as ea in heavy, eu in Meux, ou in stout.

A tripthong is a similar union of three vowels, as eau in the word beau; a term applied to dandies, and addressed to geese: probably because they are birds of a feather.

A proper dipthong is that in which the sound is formed by both the vowels: as, aw in awkward, ou in lout.

An improper dipthong is that in which the sound is formed by one of the vowels only, as ea in heartless, oa in hoax.

According to our notions there are a great many improper dipthongs in common use. By improper dipthongs we mean vowels unwarrantably dilated into dipthongs, and dipthongs mispronounced, in defiance of good English.

For instance, the rustics and dandies say,

"Loor! whaut a foine gaal! Moy oy!"

"Whaut a precious soight of crows!"

"As I was a cornin' whoam through the corn fiddles (fields) I met Willum Jones."

"I sor (saw) him."

"Dror (draw) it out."

"Hold your jor (jaw)."

"I caun't. You shaun't. How's your Maw and Paw? Do you like taut (tart)?"

We have heard young ladies remark, —

"Oh, my! What a naice young man!"

"What a bee – eautiful day!"

"Im so fond of dayncing!"

Again, dandies frequently exclaim, —

"I'm postively tiawed (tired)."

"What a sweet tempaw! (temper)."

"How daughty (dirty) the streets au!"

And they also call, —

Literature, "literetchah."

Perfectly, "pawfacly."

Disgusted, "disgasted."

Sky, "ske – eye."

Blue, "ble – ew."

We might here insert a few remarks on the nature of the human voice, and of the mechanism by means of which articulation is performed; but besides our dislike to prolixity, we are afraid of getting down in the mouth , and thereby going the wrong way to please our readers. We may nevertheless venture to invite attention to a few comical peculiarities in connection with articulate sounds.

Ahem! at the commencement of a speech, is a sound agreeably droll.

The vocal comicalities of the infant in arms are exceedingly laughable, but we are unfortunately unable to spell them.

The articulation of the Jew is peculiarly ridiculous. The "peoplesh" are badly spoken of, and not well spoken.

Bawling, croaking, hissing, whistling, and grunting, are elegant vocal accomplishments.

Lisping, as, thweet, Dthooliur, thawming, kweechau, is by some considered interesting, by others absurd.

But of all the sounds which proceed from the human mouth, by far the funniest are Ha! ha! ha! – Ho! ho! ho! and He! he! he!

A syllable, whether it constitute a word or part of a word, is a sound, either simple or compound, produced by one effort of the voice, as, "O! what, a lark! – Here, we, are!"

Spelling is the art of putting together the letters which compose a syllable, or the syllables which compose a word.

Comic spelling is usually the work of imagination.

The chief rule to be observed in this kind of spelling, is, to spell every word as it is pronounced; though the rule is not universally observed by comic spellers. The following example, for the genuineness of which we can vouch, is one so singularly apposite, that although we have already submitted a similar specimen of orthography to the reader, we are irresistibly tempted to make a second experiment on his indulgence. The epistolary curiosity, then, which we shall now proceed to transcribe, was addressed by a patient to his medical adviser.