The echoes of old Hampshire, with its distinctive dialect and unique turns of phrase, have sadly faded from the streets of the county.

It's a lament often heard amongst those who cherish the nuances of local history and the richness that regional variations bring to a language.

Yet, if we turn back the clock to the late 19th century, a time when horse-drawn carriages still clip-clopped along cobbled lanes and the pace of life was decidedly slower, we find Hampshire speech a part of everyday life for its people.

Thankfully, the importance of preserving this linguistic heritage wasn't lost on some of Hampshire's residents.

Local historians, recognising the value of these fading voices, diligently collected examples of the dialect, ensuring that future generations could glimpse into the past and appreciate the unique character of their county.

One such custodian of Hampshire's linguistic heritage was Charlotte Mary Yonge, a renowned novelist born in the picturesque village of Otterbourne in August 1823. Otterbourne would be her lifelong home, a place where she found both inspiration and solace.

Charlotte's childhood was steeped in the traditions and language of her village.

Educated at home by her father, William, a man known for his strictness and unwavering pursuit of academic excellence, she developed a deep appreciation for language and its power to convey meaning.

"He required a diligence and accuracy that were utterly alien to me," Charlotte later wrote, recalling her father's demanding teaching style. "He thundered at me so that nobody could bear to hear it, and often reduced me to tears, but his approbation was so delightful that it was a delicious stimulus."

Despite the challenges, Charlotte cherished the time spent learning alongside her father. "I believe, in spite of all breezes over my innate slovenliness, it would have broken our hearts to leave off working together, and we went on till I was some years past 20."

Beyond her father's influence, Charlotte found further inspiration in another notable Otterbourne resident, John Keble. Keble, the vicar of St Matthew's parish church, was a celebrated poet and a driving force behind the establishment of Keble College at Oxford University. His presence in Otterbourne undoubtedly contributed to the rich intellectual atmosphere that nurtured Charlotte's love of language.

As Charlotte wandered through the lanes and byways of her beloved village, she would engage in conversations with local families, absorbing their distinctive words and expressions. These encounters provided a treasure trove of linguistic gems, which she meticulously recorded, gradually building an invaluable archive of Hampshire dialect.

This collection, a testament to Charlotte's dedication and foresight, eventually found its way into one of the many books she authored during her lifetime. Her writings offer a fascinating window into Hampshire's past, preserving not only the unique words and phrases of the local dialect but also the essence of rural life in a bygone era.

"Caddle means in an untidy condition," Charlotte explains in her book, "as in 'He came in when I was all of a caddle.'" She also notes the word "stabble," meaning to walk about aimlessly, particularly in wet conditions. "I can't come stabbling down that there dirty lane, or I should be all of a muck," she quotes a villager as saying.

Charlotte's keen observations extended beyond everyday expressions to encompass the natural world. Birds and wildflowers, integral to the rural landscape, were often given unique names in the Hampshire dialect. A cuckoo was known as a "gowk," a woodlouse a "chiselbob," and a caterpillar a "palmer." A chaffinch was referred to as a "chink," while "smellfax" was the local name for an anemone. Plants thriving in damp environments were affectionately called "Granny's nightcap."

In an age before modern medicine, rural remedies for common ailments were abundant, and Charlotte diligently documented these folk cures.

A sore throat, for instance, was thought to be alleviated by wrapping a rasher of fat bacon around the neck. For those suffering from epilepsy, carrying a bag containing hair from a "he-donkey" was believed to offer relief.

Some remedies, however, seemed more daunting than the afflictions they sought to cure.

"It was thought a person with the ague or severe fever should be taken to the top of a steep place, and then violently pushed down,"

Charlotte recounts. "If this did not work, then bags containing gunpowder should be hung from the wrists and set on fire."

Charlotte's interest in preserving Hampshire's heritage wasn't confined to language alone. She was also captivated by the various country customs that punctuated the rhythm of rural life.

"An old custom, now gone out, was that farmers should send their men to church on Good Friday," she writes in her book "John Keble's Parishes, A History of Hursley and Otterbourne," published in 1898.

"They used to all appear in their rough dirty smock frocks and go back to work again, and some, of whom it would never have been expected, would fast all day."

Another curious custom involved May 29, known as "Shick-shack Day." The origins of this tradition remain shrouded in mystery, but Charlotte notes that "oak-apples are still worn on that day, and with their oak sprays are called Shick-shack."

Through her meticulous observations and detailed accounts, Charlotte Mary Yonge has left an enduring legacy, not only as a gifted novelist but also as a dedicated chronicler of Hampshire's linguistic and cultural heritage.

Her work offers a precious glimpse into a world that has largely vanished, reminding us of the richness and diversity that local dialects bring to a language. As we navigate the complexities of modern life, it's worth pausing to appreciate the voices of the past, for they offer a connection to our roots and a deeper understanding of the communities that shaped who we are today.