LEND ME YOUR EAR: SLIPUP LEADS TO A DELIGHTFUL EVENT: EVER WRONG A NUMBER?

Probably everyone who can communicate is familiar with the cliche that if you have never made a mistake you have never done anything. I had an aunt who claimed this was the reason she never did anything: she was afraid she'd make a mistake. The truth was, she had so much fun laughing about this shortcoming of hers that she succeeded in entertaining almost everyone willing to listen. So despite her low resolve, my aunt led a useful life.

Bill Bryson, in his well-researched book "The Mother Tongue," holds forth at some length on the literary figures and language scholars who have made as many mistakes in language as the rest of us have in whatever we are best at. Robert Burchfield, world-famous for his tireless efforts in connection with the Oxford English Dictionary, has blundered more than once in the use of singulars and plurals. In "The English Language," for example, he wrote: "A range of sentences forming statements, commands, questions and exclamations cause us to draw on a more sophisticated battery of orderings and arrangements." As Bryson points out, cause should have been causes: the subject of the verb is range.

In "The Story of English," Robert McCrum revealed that: "When his fellowship expired, he (a young clergyman) was offered a rectorship at Boxworth ... on condition that he married the deceased rector's daughter." The verb is construed as a subjunctive, and the phrase should have read: "On condition that he marry."

Robert Claiborne, in "Our Marvelous Native Tongue," explained: "... a lot of the available dialect data is obsolete ..." Data is plural; the singular is datum. Latin scholars know this. Few others feel the need to check.

Mario Pei, in "The Story of Language," has inflexional on one page and inflectional on another. Inflexional is British, inflectional American, but experts in language expect consistency in others.

It is hardly original to say we are all better at catching the inconsistencies of others than our own. While reading Bryson's meaty work, I came across offenses in his use of prepositions, awkward sentence structures, even mistakes in meaning. In a discussion regarding differences between English and American spellings, for instance, the author stated: "Webster was also responsible for the American aluminum in favor of the British aluminium." Surely he meant "instead of," not "in favor of."

Let me add that I probably couldn't do half so well were I writing a whole book about language: blunders have been noted in the briefest of my columns. Moreover, I've always taken pride in my spelling, blaming my typewriter for mistakes.

Recently, my Philadelphia friend Anita sent me an article with eleemosanary underlined. I was sure this eclectic term for charitable or philanthropic was spelled "eleomosynary", and assumed Anita had marked it for the misspelling. A hasty check with American Heritage proved me wrong. I've never spoken it aloud, else I'd have pronounced it wrong! And heaven only knows how many other words I am mispronouncing or misspelling or both because I've never thought I had to look them up.

Last week, while trying to recount the number of missteps I make daily in every area of living, I allowed a pan of cream of broccoli soup to boil over on the stove. It wasn't supposed to boil and I knew it. My mind was on higher things mistakes!

A slipup with a happier outcome developed on a recent Saturday when I tried to contact a business house that closes on Saturdays. A recording gave me a number to call, and a lady with an enchanting German accent said, "You wronged the number." She rolled the r so perfectly, I repeated the call just to hear it again. "I told you before," she explained less patiently, "you wronged the number!"

For another such delightful castigation, I'd wrong another number. I've already adopted this usage, but am still having to practice how to roll that r!