Any of my readers who are not much conversant with Aberdeen dialect will find the following a good specimen:—­A lady who resided in Aberdeen, being on a visit to some friends in the country, joined an excursion on horseback.  Not being much of an equestrian, she was mounted upon a Highland pony as being the canniest baste.  He, however, had a trick of standing still in crossing a stream.  A burn had to be crossed—­the rest of the party passed on, while “Paddy” remained, pretending to drink.  Miss More, in great desperation, called out to one of her friends—­“Bell, ’oman, turn back an gie me your bit fuppie, for the breet’s stannin’ i’ the peel wi’ ma.”

A rich specimen of Aberdeen dialect, under peculiar circumstances, was supplied by an Aberdonian lady who had risen in the world from selling fruit at a stall to be the wife of the Lord Provost.  Driving along in her own carriage, she ordered it to stop, and called to her a poor woman whom she saw following her old occupation.  After some colloquy, she dismissed her very coolly, remarking, “‘Deed, freet’s dear sin’ I sauld freet in streets o’ Aberdeen.”  This anecdote of reference to a good lady’s more humble occupation than riding in her carriage may introduce a somewhat analogous anecdote, in which a more distinguished personage than the wife of the Provost of Aberdeen takes a prominent part.  The present Archbishop of Canterbury tells the story himself, with that admixture of humour and of true dignity by which his Grace’s manner is so happily distinguished.  The Archbishop’s father in early life lived much at Dollar, where, I believe, he had some legal and official appointment.  His sons, the Archbishop and his brother, attended the grammar school, rather celebrated in the country; they ran about and played like other lads, and were known as schoolboys to the peasantry.  In after days, when the Archbishop had arrived at his present place of dignity as Primate of all England, he was attending a great confirmation service at Croydon—­the churchwardens, clergy, mayors, etc., of the place in attendance upon the Archbishop, and a great congregation of spectators.  On going up the centre of the church, a Dollar man, who had got into the crowd in a side aisle, said, loud enough for the Archbishop to hear, “There wasna muckle o’ this at Dollar, my Lord.”

I have not had leisure to pursue, as I had intended, a further consideration of SCOTTISH DIALECT, and their differences from each other in the north, south, east, and west of Scotland.  I merely remark now, that the dialect of one district is considered quite barbarous, and laughed at by the inhabitants of another district where a different form of language is adopted.  I have spoken of the essential difference between Aberdeen and Southern Scotch.  An English gentleman had been visiting the Lord Provost of Edinburgh, and accompanied him to Aberdeen.  His lordship of Edinburgh introduced his English friend to the Provost