rcial and political life is undoubtedly facilitated
in its running by the presence of the oil of a sub-conscious humorous
intention. The American attitude, when not carried too far, seems,
perhaps, to suggest a truer view of the comparative importance of
things; the American seems to say: "This matter is of importance to
you and for me, but after all it does not concern the orbit of a
planet and there is no use talking and acting as if it did." This
sense of humour often saves the American in a situation in which the
Englishman would have recourse to downright brutality; it unties the
Gordian knot instead of cutting it. A too strong conviction of being
in the right often leads to conflicts that would be avoided by a more
humorous appreciation of the relative importance of phenomena. To look
on life as a jest is no doubt a deep of cynicism which is not and
cannot lead to good, but to recognise the humorous side, the humorous
possibilities running through most of our practical existence, often
works as a saving grace. To his lack of this grace the Englishman owes
much of his unpopularity with foreigners, much of the difficulty he
experiences in inducing others to take his point of view, even when
that point of view is right. You may as well hang a dog as give him a
bad name; and a sense of humour which would prevent John Bull from
calling a thing "un-English," when he means bad or unpractical, would
often help him smoothly towards his goal. To his possession of a keen
sense of humour the Yankee owes much of his success; it leads him,
with a shrug of his shoulders, to cease fighting over names when the
real thing is granted; it may sometimes lean to a calculating
selfishness rather than spontaneous generosity, but on the whole it
softens, enriches, and facilitates the problems of existence. It may,
however, be here noted that some observers, such as Professor Boyesen,
think that there is altogether too much jocularity in American life,
and claim that the constant presence of the jest and the comic
anecdote have done much to destroy conversation and eloquence.

Humour also acts as a great safety-valve for the excitement of
political contests. When I was in New York, just before the election
of President Harrison in 1888, two great political processions took
place on the same day. In the afternoon some thirty thousand
Republicans paraded the streets between lines of amused spectators,
mostly Democrats. In the evening as many