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 Democrats carried their
torches through the same thoroughfares. No collisions of any kind
took place; no ill humour was visible. The Republicans seemed to enjoy
the jokes and squibs and flaunting mottoes of the Democrats; and when
a Republican banner appeared with the legend, "No frigid North, no
torrid South, no temperate East, no _Sackville West_," nobody appeared
to relish it more than the hard-hit Democrat. The Cleveland cry of
"Four, four, four years more" was met forcibly and effectively with
the simple adaptation, "Four, four, four _months_ more," which proved
the more prophetic of that gentleman's then stay at the White House.
At midnight, three days later, I was jammed in the midst of a yelling
crowd in Chestnut Street, Philadelphia, watching the electoral returns
thrown by a stereopticon light, as they arrived, on large white