Sometimes this job is too easy. Ideas may not fall off the trees, but they sometimes do arrive by mail.

When I joined SPELL last year the Society for the Preservation of the English Language and Literature I learned of a handbook on compound words called One Word, Two Words, Hyphenated? by SPELL vice-president Mary Louise Gilman.

It turned out to be an invaluable reference very nearly on a par with my Webster's New World Dictionary, and I keep it just as close at hand.

I wrote a column about the vagaries of English and the difficulties of compounding words, and praised the unknown scholar who accumulated 14,000 words and phrases like summertime, freelance, and empty nester, and confirmed inconsistencies like meatball and meat loaf, evening dress and eveningwear.

(I must note that neither my word processor spell-checker nor my Webster's supports some of the compounds in the above paragraph, but in the introduction to her book, Gilman says that when her sources disagreed, she settled in each case on the form that had the greatest consensus among them.)

Well, my column found its way to Gilman, and she wrote to ask if she could reprint it in the JCR (Journal of Court Reporting), the national organ of the National Court Reporters Association.

The column, she said, "would brighten up the pages of the JCR. And it could use some brightening. I myself was the magazine's editor for 12 years, having rescued it from a dull rag that no one read. These days not many people read it either too many ads, not enough human interest...."

I'll just bet. Her enclosures included a copy of the front cover of the March issue. Articles highlighted on it have such scintillating titles as "Ten Ways to Keep Your Business Profitable," and "How to Handle Confidential Materials."

Sets your pulses pounding, doesn't it?

Gilman (who says she doesn't like "Ms.") lives in Massachusetts and writes unkempt letters with a typewriter. I presume, however, that at one time she was a court reporter herself. She published her research on compounds as an aid to professionals for whom precision in spelling is at least as important as it is to journalists.

My column, she said, echoed the genesis of her book. "A member of my editorial staff said to me, `I find I consult a dictionary only to determine if something is one word, two words, or hyphenated. Why don't you a write a book on the subject?'"

She apologized for her letter's sloppiness: "My worsening eyesight worries me. Despite my infirmities (I'm old as the hills and also have Parkinson's disease) I continue to work very hard.

"The present project: a new edition of my 6,000 Sound-alikes and Look Alikes and Other Words Often Confused , which will now be 7,000. (If I were getting paid for it, NCRA couldn't afford me.)"

She said a 14-year-old friend is trying to teach her to use a computer, so when I wrote her back, naturally I encouraged her to learn at least to use the Internet and e-mail.

She replied, "My instructor says I'm making progress, but I'm not sure. I'm still plugging away at 86."

Eighty-six! I guess she has a right to a typo or two. Her sense of humor is certainly still intact. She was laughing at a flawed compound she had just received: "Fire Chief Kelley was given a long-standing ovation."

Gilman sent me copies of columns she has written for The Patriot Ledger "Word Watching" and graciously invited me to share them.

The following come exclusively from reporters' transcripts those in the know call them "transquips." (If any sound familiar, it may be because you saw them in Ann Landers' column, where they were miscredited, to Gilman's dismay, to another publication.)

Q. Officer, what led you to believe the defendant was under the influence?

A. Because he was argumentary and he couldn't pronunciate his words.

Q. Mrs. Jones, is your appearance here this morning pursuant to a deposition notice I sent you attorney?

A. No. This is how I dress when I go to work.

Prospective juror: Judge, I would like to be excused from the jury because my wife is about to become pregnant. Counsel: Judge, he doesn't mean his wife is about to be pregnant. He means she is about to deliver.

The Court: You are excused. In either event he should be present.

Q. Did you say he was shot in the woods? A. No, I said he was shot in the lumbar region.

Gilman prefaces the following with the observation that lawyers sometimes appear not to listen to their own questions:

Q. When he went, had you gone and had she, if she wanted to and were able, for the time being excluding all the restraints on her not to have gone also, would he have brought you, meaning you and she, with him to the station?

Q. You are the husband of the plaintiff? I mean of the defendant? A. I'm the wife.

Q. What is your relationship to the plaintiff? A. She is my daughter.

Q. And was she your daughter on Feb. 13, 1929?

Q. That's you in this picture, State's Exhibit 1? A. Yes.

Q. And were you present when the picture was taken?

This one, Gilman said, came from a court-martial reporter stationed in Germany:

Q. And why did you take the tank?

A. I don't know why, sir, unless it was to run over my car. That's the only reasonable answer I can come up with.

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