lightful
stories of _Joe and the Geologist_, and _Bobby Banks' Bodderment_.
Cornwall has its _Tales_, by J.T. Tregellas. Devon can boast of R.D.
Blackmore, Dorset of Hardy and Barnes, and Lincoln of Tennyson. The
literature of Lancashire is vast; it suffices to mention John Collier
(otherwise Tim Bobbin), author of _Tummus and Meary_, Ben Brierley,
John Byrom, J.P. Morris, author of _T' Lebby Beck Dobby_, and Edwin
Waugh, prose author and poet. _Giles's Trip to London_, and the other
sketches by the same author, are highly characteristic of Norfolk.
Northamptonshire has its poet, John Clare; and Suffolk can boast of
Robert Bloomfield. According to her own statement, printed in the
Preface (p. viii) to the E.D.S. _Bibliographical List_, George Eliot,
when writing _Adam Bede_, had in mind "the talk of N. Staffordshire
and the neighbouring part of Derbyshire"; whilst, in _Silas Marner_,
"the district imagined is in N. Warwickshire." Southey wrote
_T' Terrible Knitters e' Dent_ in the Westmoreland dialect.
Yorkshire, like Lancashire, has a large literature, to which
the _E.D.D._ Booklist can alone do justice.

SCOTTISH (Group 3): ABERDEEN.

The following extract is from Chapter XVIII of _Johnny Gibb of
Gushetneuk_, by W. Alexander, LL.D., fifteenth edition, Edinburgh,
1908. One special peculiarity of the dialect is the use of _f_ for
_wh_, as in _fat_, what, _fan_, when. The extract describes how the
speaker and his friends went to hear a bellman make a proclamation
about the appointment of a new minister to a church.

It's a vera stiff brae, an' ere we wan up to the kirk, it was gyaun
upon eleyven o'clock. "Hooever," says the mannie, "we'll be in braw
time; it's twal ere the sattlement begin, an' I'se warran they sanna
apen the kirk-doors till's till than." So we tak's a luik roun' for
ony kent fowk. They war stannin' aboot a'gate roun' aboot the kirk,
in scores an' hunners, fowk fae a' the pairis'es roun' aboot, an'
some fae hyne awa' as far doon's Marnoch o' the tae han' an' Kintore
o' the tither, aw believe; some war stampin' their feet an' slappin'
their airms like the yauws o' a win'mill to keep them a-heat;
puckles wus sittin' o' the kirk-yard dyke, smokin' an' gyaun on wi'
a' kin' o' orra jaw aboot the minaisters, an' aye mair gedderin' in
aboot--it was thocht there wus weel on to twa thoosan' there ere a'
was deen. An' aye a bit fudder was comin' up fae the manse aboot fat
the Pres