My aunt, the late Lady Burnett of Leys, was one of the class of Scottish ladies I have referred to;—­thoroughly a good woman and a gentlewoman, but in dialect quite Scottish.  For example, being shocked at the sharp Aberdonian pronunciation adopted by her children, instead of the broader Forfarshire model in which she had been brought up, she thus adverted to their manner of calling the floor of the room where they were playing:  “What gars ye ca’ it ‘fleer?’ canna ye ca’ it ‘flure?’ But I needna speak; Sir Robert winna let me correc’ your language.”

In respect of language, no doubt, a very important change has taken place in Scotland during the last seventy years, and which, I believe, influences, in a greater degree than many persons would imagine, the turn of thought and general modes and aspects of society.  In losing the old racy Scottish tongue, it seems as if much originality of character was lost.  I suppose at one time the two countries of England and Scotland were considered as almost speaking different languages, and I suppose also, that from the period of the union of the crowns the language has been assimilating.  We see the process of assimilation going on, and ere long amongst persons of education and birth very little difference will be perceptible.  With regard to that class, a great change has taken place in my own time.  I recollect old Scottish ladies and gentlemen who really spoke Scotch.  It was not, mark me, speaking English with an accent.  No; it was downright Scotch.  Every tone and every syllable was Scotch.  For example, I recollect old Miss Erskine of Dun, a fine specimen of a real lady, and daughter of an ancient Scottish house, so speaking.  Many people now would not understand her.  She was always the lady, notwithstanding her dialect, and to none could the epithet vulgar be less appropriately applied.  I speak of more than forty years ago, and yet I recollect her accost to me as well as if it were yesterday:  “I didna ken ye were i’ the toun.”  Taking word and accents together, an address how totally unlike what we now meet with in society.  Some of the old Scottish words which we can remember are charming; but how strange they would sound to the ears of the present generation!  Fancy that in walking from church, and discussing the sermon, a lady of rank should now express her opinion of it by the description of its being, “but a hummelcorn discourse.”  Many living persons can remember Angus old ladies who would say to their nieces and daughters, “Whatna hummeldoddie o’ a mutch hae ye gotten?” meaning a flat and low-crowned cap.  In speaking of the dryness of the soil on a road in Lanarkshire, a farmer said, “It stoors in an oor[49].”  How would this be as tersely translated into English?  The late Duchess of Gordon sat at dinner next an English gentleman who was carving, and who made it a boast that he was thoroughly master of the Scottish language.  Her Grace turned to him and said, “Rax me a