t all the pleasantries with which we are daily
entertained are variations of these eleven originals, traceable
directly or indirectly to the same sources. There are times when we
are disposed to think eleven too generous a computation, and there
are less weary moments in which the inexhaustible supply of
situations still suggests fresh possibilities of laughter. Granted
that the ever fertile mother-in-law jest and the one about the
talkative barber were venerable in the days of Plutarch; there are
others more securely and more deservedly rooted in public esteem
which are, by comparison, new. Christianity, for example, must be
held responsible for the missionary and cannibal joke, of which we
have grown weary unto death; but which nevertheless possesses
astonishing vitality, and exhibits remarkable breadth of treatment.
Sydney Smith did not disdain to honour it with a joyous and unclerical
quatrain; and the agreeable author of "Rab and his Friends" has told
us the story of his fragile little schoolmate whose mother had
destined him for a missionary, "though goodness knows there wasn't
enough of him to go around among many heathen."

To Christianity is due also the somewhat ribald mirth which has clung
for centuries about Saint Peter as gatekeeper of Heaven. We can trace
this mirth back to the rude jests of the earliest miracle plays. We
see these jests repeated over and over again in the folklore of Latin
and Germanic nations. And if we open a comic journal to-day, there
is more than a chance that we shall find Saint Peter, key in hand,
uttering his time-honoured witticisms. This well-worn situation
depends, as a rule, upon that common element of fun-making, the
incongruous. Saint Peter invaded by air-ships. Saint Peter
outwitting a squad of banner-flying suffragettes. Saint Peter losing
his saintly temper over the expansive philanthropy of millionaires.
Now and then a bit of true satire, like Mr. Kipling's "Tomlinson,"
conveys its deeper lesson to humanity. A recently told French story
describes a lady of good reputation, family, and estate, presenting
herself fearlessly at the gates of Heaven. Saint Peter receives her
politely, and leads her through a street filled with lofty and
beautiful mansions, any one of which she thinks will satisfy her
requirements; but, to her amazement, they pass them by. Next they
come to more modest but still charming houses with which she feels
she could be reasonably content; but again t