The Wit and Humor of America, Volume I | Page 3

the man who knows that mirth is medicine and laughter lengthens life."
Abraham Lincoln, that divinely tender man, believed that fun was an
intellectual impetus, for he read Artemus Ward to his Cabinet before
reading his famous emancipation proclamation, and laying down his
book marked the place to resume.
Joel Chandler Harris, whose delightful stories of negro life hold such a
high place in American literature, told me a story of an old negro who
claimed that a sense of humor was necessary to happiness in married
life. He said:

"I met a poor old darkey one day, pushing a wheelbarrow loaded with
cooking utensils and household effects. Seeing me looking curiously at
him, he shook his head and said:
"'I cain't stand her no longer, boss, I jes' nash'ully cain't stand her no
longer.'
"'What's the matter, uncle?' I inquired.
"'Well, you see, suh, she ain't got no idee o' fun--she won't take a joke
nohow. The other night I went home, an' I been takin' a little jes' to
waam ma heart--das all, jes to waam ma heart--an' I got to de fence, an'
tried to climb it. I got on de top, an' thar I stays; I couldn't git one way
or t'other. Then a gem'en comes along, an' I says, "Would you min'
givin' me a push?" He says, "Which way you want to go?" I says,
"Either way--don't make no dif'unce, jes' so I git off de fence, for hit's
pow'ful oncom'fable up yer." So he give me a push, an' sont me over
to'ard ma side, an' I went home. Then I want sum'in t' eat, an' my ol'
'ooman she wouldn' git it fo' me, an' so, jes' fo' a joke, das all--jes' a
joke, I hit 'er awn de haid. But would you believe it, she couldn't take a
joke. She tu'n aroun', an' sir, she sail inter me sum'in' scan'lous! I didn'
do nothin', 'cause I feelin' kind o'weak jes' then--an' so I made up ma
min' I wasn' goin' to stay with her. Dis mawnin' she gone out washin',
an' I jes' move right out. Hit's no use tryin' to live with a 'ooman who
cain't take a joke!'"
From the poems of Thomas Bailey Aldrich to George Ade's Fables in
Slang is a far cry, but one is as typical a style of humor as the other.
Ade's is the more distinctly original, for he not only created the style,
but another language. The aptness of its turns, and the marvelous way
in which he hit the bull's-eye of human foibles and weaknesses lifted
him into instantaneous popularity. A famous bon mot of George Ade's
which has been quoted threadbare, but which serves excellently to
illustrate his native wit, is his remark about a suit of clothes which the
tailor assured him he could never wear out. He said when he put them
on he didn't dare to.
From the laughter-makers pure and simple, we come to those who,

while acknowledging the cloud, yet see the silver lining--the exponents
of the smile through tears.
The best of these, Frank L. Stanton, has beautifully said:
"This world that we're a-livin' in Is mighty hard to beat; With every
rose you get a thorn, But ain't the roses sweet?"
He does not deny the thorns, but calls attention to the sweetness of the
roses--a gospel of compensation that speaks to the heart of all; kind
words of cheer to the weary traveler.
Such a philosopher was the kind-hearted and sympathetic Irish boy
who, walking along with the parish priest, met a weary organ-grinder,
who asked how far it was to the next town. The boy answered, "Four
miles." The priest remonstrated:
"Why, Mike, how can you deceive him so? You know it is eight."
"Well, your riverence," said the good-natured fellow, "I saw how tired
he was, and I wanted to kape his courage up. If I'd told him the truth,
he'd have been down-hearted intirely!"
This is really a jolly old world, and people are very apt to find just what
they are looking for. If they are looking for happiness, the best way to
find it is to try to give it to others. If a man goes around with a face as
long as a wet day, perfectly certain that he is going to be kicked, he is
seldom disappointed.
A typical exponent of the tenderly human, the tearfully humorous, is
James Whitcomb Riley--a name to conjure with. Only mention it to
anyone, and note the spark of interest, the smiling sigh, the air of gentle
retrospection into which he will fall. There is a poem for each and
every one, that commends itself for some special reason, and holds
such power of memory or sentiment as sends it straight