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These subdivided states, petty if we regard either territory or population,--all
appertained to one vast general family. They spoke the same language, though
the dialects might slightly differ (p.60)
Finally, a suggestion that dialect equates to ‗corruption‘ of ‗perfect‘ language
I cannot quit this subject [language], however, without observing by what slight
changes in the dialects favoured by different tribes of the same race, the
original signification and beauty of sounds may become confused and
deformed. Zee told me with much indignation that Zummer (lover) which in
the way she uttered it, seemed slowly taken down to the very depths of her
heart, was, in some not very distant communities of the Vril-ya, vitiated into
the half-hissing, half-nasal, wholly disagreeable, sound of Subber. I thought to
myself it only wanted the introduction of n before u to render it into an
English word significant of the last quality an amorous Gy would desire in her
Zummer (pp. 93-94)
7. Other points of interest
None noted
Bullough Collection No. 279 Sir Gibbie by George MacDonald
1. Publication details
Author: MacDonald, George
Author dates: 1824-1905
Title: Sir Gibbie
Publication: London: Dent; New York: Dutton, 1914
First published: 1879
Library reference: 200350875
2. Genre / subgenre
Literary fiction
3. Brief synopsis
The ‗Sir Gibbie‘ of the title is abandoned by his drunken father, and eventually meets
evangelising woman. Much discussion of religion.
4. Overview of varieties / dialects
Set in Scotland, and features much representation of Scottish national variety.
5. Variety #1: local family in conversation
5a. Sample of dialect
He pointed to the kennel, and drew back from the door.
"I thank ye," she said heartily, and pressing down the thumbstall of the latch, went in.
"Wha's that ye're colloguin' wi', Mysie?" asked her mother, somewhat severely, but
without lifting her eyes from her wires.
"Ye maunna be speykin' to loons i' the street."
"It's only wee Gibbie, mither," answered the girl in a tone of confidence.
"Ou weel!" returned the mother, "he's no like the lave o' loons."
"But what had ye to say till him?" she resumed, as if afraid her leniency might be taken
advantage of. "He's no fit company for the likes o' you, 'at his a father an' mither, an' a
chop (shop). Ye maun hae little to say to sic rintheroot laddies."
"Gibbie has a father, though they say he never hid nae mither," said the child.
"Troth, a fine father!" rejoined the mother, with a small scornful laugh.
"Na, but he's something to mak mention o'! Sic a father, lassie, as it wad be tellin' him
he had nane! What said ye till 'im?"
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