CORRESPONDENCE.

ENGLISH AS SPOKEN IN IRELAND.

[To TRY EDITOR OF THE " SPEOTATOR."1

Sin,—Speaking generally, some of the leading features of English as spoken in Ireland are the marked absence of all local dialects, except in Ulster, where broad Scotch more or less prevails ; the use of long words or " dictionary English," a great power of amplification—i.e., of repeating the same idea under different forms of expression—and an equal power of picturesque illustration. Certain English words also are used in a sense peculiar to Ireland. As regards the employment of long words, some instances have been already given in a former article (April 25th) on the subject, but a few more may be added. The writer had a parishioner who died lately in hospital after an apoplectic seizure. When the nurse in charge was asked if he had spoken subsequently to the attack, she said, " Yes; he spoke a few incorporate words," probably meaning " incoherent." The word " gladiator " is also a favourite descriptive term for a noisy, forward, troublesome fellow. " What a gladiator he is !" It is curious bow simple Irish people have got hold of a classical word like this, and become so fond of it. Of simpler forms of expression used in quite a different sense in Ireland from what they are in England, take the following.

" How well." It is very hard to convey the Irish sense of

this ejaculation. An Englishman would say, " How well you look ! " or " How well you did that ! " but not so in Ireland. An Irish beggar woman said to the writer within the last few days : " How well, your Reverence, you didn't go to the races ! " Take other instances fresh from the mint. " How well Mikey Keefe can't drink Mrs. Walsh's whisky when we all can drink it"! or, " We had a grand mission in the parish, glory be to God! last month ; but bow well the Kellys stole the nuns' ducks all the same !" There is a subtle delicate flavour in this Irish use of " How well " which it is extremely hard for an outsider to perceive and appreciate. It is really very hard to define it ; when spoken, its meaning is perhaps more clearly conveyed. The root idea seems to be contrast. Thus, "How well you didn't go to the races !" means that in spite of all their attractions, and although so many others went, you didn't go ; or, "How well the Kellys stole the nuns' ducks !" how, even in spite of the mission, they did it. This seems to be the main idea of the expression, but it is very undefinable; it is perfectly and peculiarly Irish.

The word " shine " has a special meaning in Ireland : it means to agree, to harmonise. Thus you will hear it said, " The members of the Board of Guardians didn't shine at their last meeting; no, they didn't." This does not necessarily imply that they did not distinguish themselves, but that they could not, would not, or did not agree. " The chairsman [sic] couldn't shine at all wid the likes of some of them ; it couldn't be expected of him."

"Chewing the rag" is an Irish form of expression never heard by the writer out of Ireland. Like " How well," it leaves room for wide application. When Oliver Cromwell issued "A Declaration of the Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland for the Undeceiving of Deluded and Seduced People," given at Youghal, January, 1649, he said in that remarkable document —which Carlyle describes as " one of the remarkablest State papers every published in Ireland since Strongbow, or even since St. Patrick "—" I will give you some wormwood to bite

on." So it is with " chewing the rag." It is the giving of some- thing disagreeable to bite on; the launching of some topic for public discussion and consumption of an unpleasant nature. As a rule, Irishmen are kept by their political and other leaders " chewing the rag " " ever and always," as the Irish phrase is,—i.e., kept " chewing the rag " of some grievance past and present. And there is an unconscious, and perhaps unsus- pected, truth hidden in the saying, for many of these " rags " are rags pure and simple. They are devoid of nutriment and flavour ; they are not even bones, much less bones clothed

with flesh ; they are rags only, sapless, tasteless; and yet, in spite of all this, " chewing the rag " has become a favourite national occupation, if not even a pastime, in Ireland.

The word " head " has a peculiar use in the country. The police are an important body, and a head-constable is always called "the head." In an Irish town you will often hear the inquiry : " Did you see the head ? " "Did you tell the head ? " Head Galligan or Head Mulligan, as the case may be, is a most important personage in Irish society. Sometimes also

when a " head " retires he is described as the " ex-head." Thus the " ex-head " of Ireland nowadays is more remark-

able and miraculous than the " axe-head " of Elisha's time, for the modern " ex-head " not only floats, but sleeps, eats, talks, walks, and discharges all the functions of humanity.

But it is strange and amusing to ears unaccustomed to the title to hear such a remark as this: "I consulted the ex-head about it

" Start " is another simple word used in a special sense in Ireland; it does not necessarily mean a beginning, it only means for a certain time or period. Thus you will be told: " Thady drank hard for a start," " I lent Timmy the horse for a start," meaning for an interval only. The loan of a horse for a "start" in harvest in Ireland might equally mean in the middle or end of it, quite as much as at the beginning.

Perhaps the commonest feature of Irish conversation, and the most striking to a stranger, will be, not the use of words in different senses from what he is accustomed to, but the power of amplification and illustration employed in it,—a facility for heaping up synonyms. Thus sometimes you will hear one neighbour bewailing to another the death of a mutual friend much as follows :—"He was a grand man, God bless him ! may God be good to him ! a grand man entirely; that's the way to say it, he was, he was, he was, the poor man; he was all that his aiquals wasn't to be found in Sonata [i.e., in the place]. Oh wisba lave me alone, don't be talking, there's the truth for ye now," and so on ad tibituni. John Gregg, for many years a popular preacher in Dublin, and eventually Bishop of Cork, was an eloquent speaker of the national type. He visited almost every parish in his diocese; and in one in particular he was led by the rector, a scholarly, literary man who always wrote his sermons, to a corner of the churchyard from which there was a very fine and extensive prospect. The Bishop surveyed it for a time in silence, and then burst into a sort of rhapsody, ex- claiming :—" Very fine, very grand, very magnificent, very beautiful, very sublime ! how varied, how diversified—the rock, the road, the drives, the trees, the woods, the hills, the mountains, the birds, the sky, the clouds ! what sights ! what sounds! the grey, the blue, the green ! the cawing of rooks, the bleating of sheep, the lowing of cattle ! Tell me, tell me, do you preach extempore ? " This to the listening rector. He, poor man, exhausted by following the rapid flight and flow of the Bishop's remarks, could only mildly say " No," when the quick response came : "Why don't you? why don't you?" Probably the Bishop thought the place itself should inspire a preacher, not "put joys of desperation in the brain." It must be admitted that this Irish facility for amplification is rather a fatal gift; it has a tendency to make sermons, speeches, and conversations rather thin, and consequently tedious. Of course, there is a happy mean if it could be hit. " To use too many circumstances," says Bacon, " ere one come to the matter is wearisome ; to use none at all is blunt."

One more instance in conclusion. In a severely boycotted and " campaigned " district in 1887 the writer heard the

following outflow and overflow of eloquence from a " cam- paigner " addressing a friend :—" And here we are, under the

flail and under the barrow; and under the axe and under the saw ; and under the scourge and under the lash ; and under the whip and under the stick ; and under the agent and under the bailiff; and under the 'torney and under the Judge and under the polis ; and under the lock and under the key; and under the writ and under the costs; and under eviction and under the crowbar. And all for what? all for what? All for wan; all for wan to fill his pocket and keep us poor; all for the landlord. That's the way to say it."

The speaker in question said all this without any apparent effort ; he never turned a hair during the delivery of this torrent of indignant eloquence; indeed he was walking briskly along the road with his companion all the while. "He stayed not for broke and he stopped not for stone." It was all apparently a matter of course; but one must live in Ireland or visit Ireland to hear English spoken in this style.

To sum up then, a few of the leading features of " English as spoken in Ireland " are that it is spoken without any dialect such as exists in Yorkshire, Somerset, or Devon; it is spoken without the abstraction or addition of the letter "h," which letter is never misapplied in Ireland; equally the letter " r " is never appended improperly to the end of a word, nor is the final "g" dropped. Irish people of the lower classes are also much addicted to the use of long words where short ones would suit as well, or better. They also use certain English words in a sense peculiarly their own,—i.e., the speakers' own. They also repeat and expand the same idea sometimes to an un- justifiable length, which practice makes a great show of fluency, though it is not conducive to eloquence. Such are some of the features of "English as spoken in Ireland."— I