Public readers, especially, devote too much attention to the mere literal facts of dialect. Readers who give no attention to characterization or dramatic instinct pride themselves upon their mastery of many dialects. Their work is purely imitative and external. In representing a dialect, the general principles of expression, the laws of consistency and harmony, must be carefully considered by both the writer and the reader. In general, the greatest masters of dialect are those who use dialects associated with their own childhood, such as Riley, with the Hoosier dialect, Day, with the Maine Yankee dialect, or Harris, with that of the colored people of Georgia. True dialect must always be the result of sympathy and identification. Many writers have been led by a study of peculiar types and through natural imaginative sympathy or humor to understand and appreciate a specific dialect. Dunbar thus writes many of his poems in the peculiar dialect of his race. The reader need not be told that many of his poems are monologues. For a perfect type see "Ne'er Mind, Miss Lucy." Dunbar was led, no doubt, by genuine sympathy or dramatic instinct, to write in the dialect of his race some of his most tender as well as his more humorous poems. Dr. Drummond, of Montreal, after many experiences among the French Canadians, has written several volumes of monologues in which he has introduced to the world some peculiar types of the French Canadian. Their quaint humor is portrayed with genuine and profound sympathy, and these poems are capable of very intense dramatic interpretation, and are deservedly popular. He preserves not only the peculiarity of the words, but the melodic and rhythmic movement of the dramatic spirit of his characters. DIEUDONNE If I sole ma ole blind trotter for fifty dollar cash Or win de beeges' prize on lotterie, If some good frien' die an' lef' me fines' house on St. Eustache, You t'ink I feel more happy dan I be? No, sir! An' I can tole you, if you never know before, W'y de kettle on de stove mak' such a fuss, W'y de robbin stop hees singin' an' come peekin' t'roo de door For learn about de nice t'ing's come to us-- An' w'en he see de baby lyin' dere upon de bed Lak leetle Son of Mary on de ole tam long ago-- Wit' de sunshine an' de shadder makin' ring aroun' hees head, No wonder M'sieu Robin wissle low. An' we can't help feelin' glad too, so we call heem Dieudonne; An' he never cry, dat baby, w'en he's chrissen by de pries'; All de sam' I bet you dollar he'll waken up some day, An' be as bad as leetle boy Bateese.