An inquiry comes from Elaine Allen of Chicago. What is the rule, she asks, on the employment of “on” and “upon”? Such a straightforward question deserves an evasive answer.

This oracle will provide it: The choice depends.

Ms. Allen identifies herself as a unpublished novelist. In one scene of her unfinished work, a young wife is preparing dinner. At first our author tried, “Susan put it on the table and waited for applause.” Then she tried, “Susan put it upon the table and waited for applause.” In another chapter, she wrote: “Upon his arrival, the children fled.” Then she tested: “On his arrival, the children fled.”

There plainly is not a dime’s worth of semantic difference between “on” and “upon.” Susan’s dinner may have been inedible, but at least she tried; and there’s an end to it. So much for Susan! Off with her head! But if the two prepositions have identical meanings, how is a writer to choose?

The choice, it seems to me, depends largely upon intangibles. It depends upon such fuzzy factors as cadence and pace. As a writer, do you want two syllables or only one? It’s your call. Are you writing fast or writing slow? In many idiomatic constructions, there’s little problem. A train arrives on the dot, not upon the dot. Once upon a midnight dreary, Poe interviewed that laconic Raven. “On the mark!” cries the official, and the Olympic runners take off.

The editors of Merriam-Webster’s Dictionary of English Usage report that a scholarly analysis in 1967 found that when an alternative choice is available, “on” is used more than 13 times as often as “upon.” In his Modern American Usage, Bryan Garner regards “on” as generally the better choice, but he adds that “upon” may be justified when the sense is “on the occasion of,” e.g., “Upon their anniversary, Ted took Susan to McDonald’s for dinner.”

In my view, “upon” deserves more than lukewarm support. The humble preposition enjoys a long and respectable history. Shakespeare liked it. Dr. Samuel Johnson memorably wrote that “in lapidary inscriptions, a man is not upon his oath.” William Faulkner wrote that a decision “depends upon” who is doing the deciding. Doesn’t every good fairy tale begin with “Once upon a time”?

While we’re talking about interchangeable words, there’s “though” and its twin, “although.” Ben Blankenship of the Stafford County (Va.) Sun writes to dissent from a comment attributed to Lyn Nofziger, a former press secretary at the White House: “There is, though persons in the Bush White House may deny it, a noticeable lack of enthusiasm for President Bush among conservative Republicans …” Blankenship would have preferred “although persons may deny.” I concur.

The venerable Henry Fowler says that either conjunction “is always admissible.” Garner says that although “although” is more formal and dignified, “though” reads better in certain formal contexts.

Translators of the King James Bible played no favorites. Said Peter at the Last Supper, “Although all shall be offended, yet will not I.” In John 11:25, we find, “He that believes in me, though he were dead, shall never die.” In Habakkuk 3:17, the prophet assures the Lord that his faith will be strong “although the fig tree shall not blossom.” In Paul’s first epistle to the Corinthians, a familiar passage begins with a “though”: “Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels and have not charity …”

How to choose? Once again, I urge writers to cultivate a writer’s ear. Euphony matters! Though our deskmates and neighbors may complain, let us test the alternatives by reading our stuff aloud. Although it’s not infallible, our inner ear will seldom let us down.

James Kilpatrick is a syndicated columnist.

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