physiognomy make the joke appreciably better. It requires no such
assistance; it is rich enough without them; to possess a married
daughter is all that is necessary to cause gusts of joyful mirth.

That it is not the lady herself who is funny could--no matter how
Gothic her figure--be proved in a moment by placing her in the
witness-box and asking her to state her relationship to the prisoner's
wife. She would say, "I am her mother," and nothing would happen. But
if the question were, "What is your relationship to the prisoner?" and
she replied, "I am his mother-in-law," sides would split. Similarly
one can imagine that if the husband's reply to the counsel's question,
"Who was with you?" had been, "My wife was with me," there would have
been no risible reaction whatever; but if the reply had been, "My
wife's mother was with me," the place would have been convulsed. Of
course the true artist in effect would never say, "My wife's mother,"
but "My mother-in-law." It is the "in-law" that is so exquisitely
amusing and irresistible.

But both would be the same person: the gravest thing on earth,
it might be, in every other respect--even sad and dignified--but
ludicrous because her daughter happened to have found a husband.

To inquire why the bare mention of the mother of a man's wife should
excite merriment is to find oneself instantly deep in sociology--and
in some of its seamiest strata too. While exploring them one would
make the odd discovery that, whereas the humour that surrounds
and saturates the idea of a wife possessing a maternal relative
is inexhaustible, there is nothing laughable about the mother of a
husband. A wife can talk of her husband's mother all day and never
have the reputation of a wit, whereas her husband has but to mention