You doubt the power of the sympathetic laugh? Come with me into the
nursery. Here is a rosy little horror, a year and a half old. Sit down
and take him upon your knees. Hold his dimpled hands in yours, and
look steadily into his roguish eyes. Repeat a nursery rhyme, no matter
what, in a humdrum recitative; he is sober, and very attentive.
Suddenly spring a mine upon him with a "Boo!" His "Hicketty-hick!"
follows, and his eyes begin to shine. Repeat the experiment.
"Hicketty-hick!" again, more heartily than at first, with the baby
encore, "Adin!" The same process awakens the rapturous little pearls
again and again, and you are quite in the spirit of the thing
yourself. Now for a more ecstatic burst. You purposely prolong his
suspense; he is all atilt, expecting the delightful surprise. You
drawl out each word; you drone the ditty over and over again, till
every tiny nerve is tense with expectation. "Boo!" at last, and over
he goes, in the complete _abandon_ of baby glee; his cherry lips are
wide asunder, his head hangs powerless back, and the "Hicketty-hicks"
burst tumultuously from his little, beating throat. And _you_, sir;
what are _you_ doing? Laughing, I declare, in full roar, till the
tears run down your cheeks. You catch the boy in your arms, toss him,
almost throttle him with kisses, and so enhance the merry spasms, that
mamma, who has a philosophical instinct with regard to excited nerves,
and dreads the reaction, comes to the rescue.

Let me introduce you to another effective laughter. You shall not hear
a sound, yet you cannot choose but laugh, if she does, quiet as she is
about it. See how her shoulders shake,--and look at her face! Every
feature is instinct with mirth; the color mounts to the roots of the
hair; the curls vibrate; the eyes sparkle through tears; the white
teeth glisten; the very nose and ears seem to take a part; like
Nourmahal, she "laughs all over," and while you wonder what the joke