Page:Studies in Lowland Scots - Colville - 1909.djvu/135

Rh Burt notes the peculiarities of that Edinburgh dialect, which, despite Parliament House and an earnest determination to be as English as possible, still persists. The waiter offered him for supper "a duke," "a fool," or "a meer-fool." In Fife this "duke" would be "juck"—a modification heard also in the verb, as in the proverbial caution, "Jook and let the jaw gae by." the broad a of the Lothians, especially if near a liquid, is as decided a shibboleth as the slurring of t wherever possible betrays an early familiarity with the "Sautmarket" of Glasgow. The long-drawn drawl, "Cauff for beds!" used to be familiar in the Canongate of Edinburgh; and in the Cowgate, which the Modern Athenian forgets to call the "Coogate," for an older "Soo'gate" (Southgate), they still "baur the dore," "hing up the umber-ellie," or take "a dook at Joapie." Glasgow equally ignores historic continuity with its "Bew-kannan" Street. In its early days it was "B'whannan" and, later, "B'kannan" Street. The native loves to leave the convenience of the Broomielaw "wanst a week a' least, on Se'erday afternoon." The Borderer, again, has his shibboleth, the burr which comes out when Ridley speaks of his friend Rutherford at Chollerford or Chirnside. He of Kelso, if a clegyman, preaches about "radamption." The same vowel is heard in the local name of the town, "Kal-so," or the neighbouring Salkirk. Here local pronunciation of the place-name is, as usual, correct. The ancient seal of Kelso bears the inscription, "Sigillum Monasterii de Calco"—referring to a height near which, in olden times, was a "clak-heugh," or quarry. The Galloway man has long known the Irish "trogger," so if you ask your way of him he directs you to a short cut "farder on" by a "footpad," as "neerder" than the highroad. All round the Fife coast you hear the long, high-pitched drawl of someone battling with the east wind. The St. Andrews man goes into the "ceetie," or down to the "herr-burr." In rural districts the Fifer says, "Whaur arr ye gaun, maan?" in ore rotundo tones that fitly accompany heavily-laden heels crushing clods at leisure. Between the Tay and Moray Firths we hear nothing but thin vowels and piping tones. The distinctive feature is the f sound of initial wh. Here we are among an alert, canny folk, of keen intelligence, whether we spend a day in prosaic Dundee among