{cut off} OF THE SCOTTISH TONGUE

{cut off} the uncommon thing in England as in America to hear educated men and even {cut off}, remonstrating against the continuance of a Scottish literature. "Why," it is argued, "continue to use a language, and dialect which must soon become obsolete?" Well, we answer, it has a charm to us which we are not willing to sacrifice to utiliarianism. Practical as the world is, our tastes are happily not entirely so, and so we prefer holding fast those ideal things which to us are a joy forever. The memories of our early day are yet the morning sunshine of our lives. Where is the kindly heart that has not felt that

"There's aye a bit gleam o the gude and the true. As we dream the bit dream of our childhood anew."

And what brings this feeling home to a Scot at home or abroad -- like Scottish writings? When Tannahill wrote that simple line, "The midges dance abune the burn, " he set a living image before thousands of his countryment which all the gnats above the brooks in England could never have conveyed an idea of.

The Scot is notably sicker, but no people so frequently give up wealthy and desirable positions to enjoy on a moderate competence their fondly cherished home associations, nor do any more readily make sacrifices to attain cherished ideas. The Highland woman who asked here gudeman to "gang up and be hanged to please the Laird," is an exaggerated illustration of this feeling, while the history of "The Forty-five" Rebellion showed a national self sacrifice probably without a parallel. From the sage, Lociel, who foresaw and pointed out the terrible dangers imminent yet could not resist -- the wild poetical feeling swept, irresistibly through the people, who staked all in their devoted enthusiam, the world knows with what result. Yet from that great uprising, and the merciless down-trampling that followed it, what a glorious heritage of national poetry sprung! we do not say the people did wisely in linking their fate with that of the "Young Chevalier," but they were borne away impulsively by sympathy and love of right, the noblest impulses that stir the human heart. So whether it be wise or no, we feel that there is something grandly loyal in our enthusiastic love of our mother-tongue. This much for the ideal.

Yet are we not without reason for the faith to which we cling, for there are virtues in the Scottish language well worthy of preservation. Uttered by rude tongues it may be harsh, but from modulated lips it is very musical, and we have often heard people of other nations speak of the pleasure it gave them. There is a tender pathos in the dialect, and a fine rythmical flow in the strong simple words , with their profusion of vowels, to which we proudly cling. If any one doubts the truth of this let them read Hogg's "Bonny Kilmeny," and believer: or Tannahill's "Bonnie Wood o'Craigielea," or "Gloomy Winter's now awa;" Burns' "Nannie O;" or Robert Nicoll's__

"There nane like you, theres nane like you

The youngsters blithe around me now,

Are bonnie a', baith great an' sma',

But auld gudewife there's nane like you"

Simple thoughts enough , but tenderly expressed and touchingly grand in their simple homely woreds.

Willie Laidlaw', "Lucy's Flittin', is another fine illustration of the expressive tenderness of our venaculara:

"O what is that pits my puir heart a flutter

And what {missing}ars the tear come sae fast to my e'e

If I was'na {missing}ettlet to be only better,

Than what gars me wish ony better to be."

"The Braes o'Gleniffer," and "When the Kye come hame," are equally beautiful . How that verse beginning "When the bluart bears a pearl," take hold of the Scottish heart, and where is the Scot whose ambition would not be fired to write as musically. The first four verses of Miss Blamire's "What ails this heart o'mine," Lady Ann Lindsay's "Auld Robin Gray,"the Countess of Nairn's "I'm wearin' awa," "The Rowan Tree," and many others have excellencies and beauties enough to stimulate the Scotch to follow in such footsteps for generations to come.

Nor does the Scottish muse of modern days lag far behind. Henry Scott Riddell's "Scotland Yet," " I'll awa hame to my ain folk," and other pieces, are worthy of her palmiest days. W. Cameron's "Meet me on the Gowan Lea," "Jessie o' the Dell," and "Morag's Faery Glen,"--

"Ye ken whar you, we burnie rins roarin' to the sea,"--

are brimming with gladness and beauty as the birdies and the burnies themselves.

Many of the Scottish idioms are very expressive and there is a pith in the language, as there has always been in the race which uses it. Take for example Burns' "Address to the Deil," "Tam o'Shanter," or "Death and Dr. Hornbook," or Nicoll's "We'll mak' the warld better yet."

There are not a few useful Scottish words which have no English synonym, while many are indifferently represented. "Wersh" cannot be expressed in English; its best representative is saltless, but this is a thoroughly negative condition, whilst wersh is a very positive flavor, as every one who tastes unsalted bread or brose is apt to testify. "Douse" expresses at once a pleasant and tranquil disposition, with a well-conditioned body. "Crouse" is nearly untranslateable; it is conceited, sprightly and inclined to braggart. "Dinnle," the painful sensation caused by the return of warm blood to very cold fingers. Who knows the English of it? Is it tingle: How indefinite, while dinnle or dinnlin expresses the exact feeling sharp as the sensation itself. "Toom"