"Man, man, there's no nae doubt at ye lauoh at havers, an' there's mony 'at lauchs 'at your clipper-clapper, but they're no Thrums fowk, and they canna' lauch richt. But we maun juist settle this matter. When we're ta'en up wi' the makkin' o' humour, we're a' dependent on other fowk to tak' note o' the humour. There's no nane o' us 'at's lauched at anything you've telt us. But they'll lauch at me. Noo then," he roared out, "'A pie sat on a pear-tree.'"
We all knew this song of TAMMAS'S. A shout of laughter went up from the whole gathering. The stranger fell backwards into the sty a senseless mass.
"Man, man," said HOOKEY to TAMMAS, as we walked home; "what a crittur ye are! What pit that in your heed?"
"It juist took a grip o' me," replied TAMMAS, without moving a muscle; "it flashed upon me 'at he'd no stand that auld song. That's where the humour o' it comes in."
"Ou, ay," added HENDRY, "Thrums is the place for rale humour." On the whole, I agree with him.
SUGGESTIVE.—My Musical Experiences, by BETTINA WALKER, will probably be followed by My Eye, by BETTINA MARTIN.