Words, Words

Two temples of chaste white marble impart an Attic quietude to one side of Princeton University's central campus, back of Nassau Hall. In days gone by, vast quantities of glutinous flour, hose water, impossible eggs, red paint, mustard and sick fruit have hurtled against their immaculate facades what time incoming classes, while posing for their photographs, have been advised by sophomores that vanity is not pleasing to the gods. But the freshmen have always laved the temples afterward until they shone pristine and classic as before.

The high priest of these two temples, is a genial, bumbling man with a blue twinkle in his eye, a carefree mustache and a knobbly walking stick. He is Dr. Harry F. Covington, Professor of Public Speaking and Debating, whose classes meet before the temple rostra. Few Princeton graduates could tell you which temple is the home of the American Whig and which of the Cliosophical Society, but any Princeton man could single out from 10,000 public speaking professors, the memorable face and figure of Professor Harry F. Covington.

In addition to dispensing stateliness of presence, ring of voice, ability to cerebrate while vertical, and modern substitutes for the Demosthenic pebble, Dr. Covington studies the vocabulation of his charges. He estimates that the average educated person has a nodding acquaintance* with 18,000 English words, or possibly twice that number. It is very difficult to be exact. Ten years ago he took in hand a list of 100 words that should be recognized by this hypothetical person, and administered it to his students year after year. The students had to use each word in a sentence, and brilliant examples would come in, like this: p>"The great auk is now extinct."

"Compulsory chapel is a faculty fetish."

"This examination has some occult purpose."

With a few stupid ones like this:

"The longest English word I ever saw is disestablishmentarianism."

"Greek slaves tied on their running shoes with diphthongs."

"The court allowed $400 acrimony to the sobbing wife."

Last week Dr. Covington ploughed through a bale of papers submitted by his present juniors and seniors. He averaged their marks, found that they had recognized 93 of the 100. Routing out the marks of 1916 he announced that the average student vocabulary was clearly increasing. Today it included 93% of his list as against 86% a decade back. He declared the 1% improvement was due to increased newspaper reading and to the prevalence of hobbies nowadays. Every hobby teaches words. He announced: "These figures are not startling, but they seem indicative of an improvement. We cannot think without tools. Good tools and good workmanship go together."

Last week the National Kindergarten and Elementary College of Chicago published a tabulation of conversations recorded in 30 U. S. and Canadian kindergartens over a month's time. "I" was the word used most frequently, averaging 1,044 times; "the" was second, 616 times; "teacher" came eighth; "what," 13th; "mother," 24th; "father," 80th ("papa" appeared entirely obsolete). "Please" and "thank you" were almost unknown. City children knew fighting words and slang. The size of an average kindergartner vocabulary was not made public after this laborious study.

The average speaking vocabulary of U.S. laborers has been estimated between 400 and 600 words. Shakespeare's written vocabulary is 18,000 words.