“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.

Grammar-Land

Chapter I.
Mr. Noun

Common NounsBirdHorseCatProper NounsVenusAliceBobFidoCommon 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.

Grammar-Land
Grammar-Land

Chapter II.
Little Article

the aLittle·Articlethe 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.

Grammar-Land

Chapter III.
Mr. Pronoun

Allow me to goinstead of you — Mr.Noun,it will save troubleNounsMr. Pronoun SpeaksAllow me to go instead of you — Mr. Noun, it will save trouble Nouns Mr. 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?”