fast going on.  One of them being asked if an individual whom she had lately seen was “Scotch,” answered with some bitterness, “I canna say; ye a’ speak sae genteel now that I dinna ken wha’s Scotch.”  It was not uncommon to find, in young persons, examples, some years ago, of an attachment to the Scottish dialect, like that of the old lady.  In the life of P. Tytler, lately published, there is an account of his first return to Scotland from a school in England.  His family were delighted with his appearance, manners, and general improvement; but a sister did not share this pleasure unmixed, for being found in tears, and the remark being made, “Is he not charming?” her reply was, in great distress, “Oh yes, but he speaks English!”

The class of old Scottish ladies, marked by so many peculiarities, generally lived in provincial towns, and never dreamt of going from home.  Many had never been in London, or had even crossed the Tweed.  But as Lord Cockburn’s experience goes back further than mine, and as he had special opportunities of being acquainted with their characteristic peculiarities, I will quote his animated description at page 57 of his Memorials.  “There was a singular race of old Scotch ladies.  They were a delightful set—­strong-headed, warm-hearted, and high-spirited—­merry even in solitude; very resolute; indifferent about the modes and habits of the modern world, and adhering to their own ways, so as to stand out like primitive rocks above ordinary society.  Their prominent qualities of sense, humour, affection, and spirit, were embodied in curious outsides, for they all dressed, and spoke, and did exactly as they chose.  Their language, like their habits, entirely Scotch, but without any other vulgarity than what perfect naturalness is sometimes mistaken for[56].”

This is a masterly description of a race now all but passed away.  I have known several of them in my early days; and amongst them we must look for the racy Scottish peculiarities of diction and of expression which, with them, are also nearly gone.  Lord Cockburn has given some illustrations of these peculiarities; and I have heard others, especially connected with Jacobite partialities, of which I say nothing, as they are in fact rather strong for such a work as this.  One, however, I heard lately as coming from a Forfarshire old lady of this class, which bears upon the point of “resolute” determination referred to in the learned judge’s description.  She had been very positive in the disclaiming of some assertion which had been attributed to her, and on being asked if she had not written it, or something very like it, she replied, “Na, na; I never write onything of consequence—­I may deny what I say, but I canna deny what I write.”