Take one of our most familiar phrases; as thus:--We meet an old friend, we talk over bygone days, and remember many who were dear to us both, once bright, and young, and gay, of whom some remain, honoured, prosperous, and happy--of whom some are under a cloud of misfortune or disgrace--some are broken in health and spirits--some sunk into the grave; we recall old familiar places--old companions, pleasures, and pursuits; as Scotchmen our hearts are touched with these remembrances of AULD LANG SYNE.
Match me the phrase in English.

You can't translate it.

The fitness and the beauty lie in the felicity of the language.

Like many happy expressions, it is not transferable into another tongue, just like the "simplex munditiis" of Horace, which describes the natural grace of female elegance, or the [Greek: achaexithmon gelasma] of AEschylus, which describes the bright sparkling of the ocean in the sun.
I think the power of Scottish dialect was happily exemplified by the late Dr.Adam, rector of the High School of Edinburgh, in his translation of the Horatian expression "desipere in loco," which he turned by the Scotch phrase "Weel-timed daffin';" a translation, however, which no one but a Scotchman could appreciate.

The following humorous Scottish translation of an old Latin aphorism has been assigned to the late Dr.Hill of St.Andrews: "_Qui bene cepit dimidium facti fecit_" the witty Principal expressed in Scotch, "Weel saipet (well soaped) is half shaven." What mere _English_ word could have expressed a distinction so well in such a case as the following?
I heard once a lady in Edinburgh objecting to a preacher that she did not understand him.