"Na, na, no you, T'nowhead," said Tammas, hotly. "Weel," continued the farmer, "I never set up for bein' a humorist, but I can juist assure ye 'at I lauch at queer things too. No lang syne I woke up i' my bed lauchin' like onything, an' Lisbeth thocht I wasna weel. It was something I dreamed 'at made me lauch, I couldna think what it was, but I laughed richt. Was that no fell like a humorist?" "That was neither here nor there," said Tammas. "Na, dreams dinna coont, for we're no responsible for them. Ay, an' what's mair, the mere lauchin's no the important side o' humour, even though ye hinna to be telt to lauch. The important side's the other side, the sayin' the humorous things. I'll tell ye what: the humorist's like a man firin' at a target--he doesna ken whether he hits or no till them at the target tells 'im." "I would be of opeenion," said Hendry, who was one of Tammas's most staunch admirers, "'at another mark o' the rale humorist was his seein' humour in all things?" Tammas shook his head--a way he had when Hendry advanced theories. "I dinna haud wi' that ava," he said. "I ken fine 'at Davit Lunan gaes aboot sayin' he sees humour in everything, but there's nae surer sign 'at he's no a genuine humorist. Na, the rale humorist kens vara weel 'at there's subjects withoot a spark o' humour in them. When a subject rises to the sublime it should be regairded philosophically, an' no humorously. Davit would lauch 'at the grandest thochts, whaur they only fill the true humorist wi' awe. I've found it necessary to rebuke 'im at times whaur his lauchin' was oot o' place. He pretended aince on this vara spot to see humour i' the origin o' cock-fightin'." "Did he, man?" said Hendry; "I wasna here. But what is the origin o' cock-fechtin'?" "It was a' i' the _Cheap Magazine_," said T'nowhead. "Was I sayin' it wasna?" demanded Tammas. "It was through me readin' the account oot o' the _Cheap Magazine_ 'at the discussion arose." "But what said the _Cheapy_ was the origin o' cock-fechtin'?" "T'nowhead 'll tell ye," answered Tammas; "he says I dinna ken." "I never said naething o' the kind," returned T'nowhead, indignantly; "I mind o' ye readin't oot fine." "Ay, weel," said Tammas, "that's a' richt. Ou, the origin o' cock-fightin' gangs back to the time o' the Greek wars, a thoosand or twa years syne, mair or less. There was ane, Miltiades by name, 'at was the captain o' the Greek army, an' one day he led them doon the mountains to attack the biggest army 'at was ever gathered thegither." "They were Persians," interposed T'nowhead. "Are you tellin' the story, or am I?" asked Tammas. "I kent fine 'at they were Persians. Weel, Miltiades had the matter o' twenty thoosand men wi' im', and when they got to the foot o' the mountain, behold there was two cocks fechtin'." "Man, man," said Hendry, "an' was there cocks in thae days?" "Ondoubtedly," said Tammas, "or hoo could thae twa hae been fechtin'?"