Bill Nye was a sturdy and persistent humorist of so good a sort that he
never could help being humorous, yet there was never a sting in his
jokes. Gentle raillery was the severest thing he ever attempted, and
even this he did with so genial a smile and so merry an eye, that a word
of his friendly chaffing was worth more than any amount of formal
praise.

Few of the great world's great despatches contained so much wisdom in so
few words as Nye's historic wire from Washington:

"My friends and money gave out at 3 A.M."

Eugene Field, the lover of little children, and the self-confessed
bibliomaniac, gives us still another sort of laugh--the tender,
indulgent sort. Nothing could be finer than the gentle reminiscence of
"Long Ago," a picture of the lost kingdom of boyhood, which for all its
lightness holds a pathos that clutches one in the throat.

And yet this writer of delicate and subtle humor, this master of tender
verse, had a keen and nimble wit. An ambitious poet once sent him a poem
to read entitled "Why do I live?" and Field immediately wrote back:
"Because you sent your poem by mail."

Laughter is one of the best medicines in the world, and though some
people would make you force it down with a spoon, there is no doubt that
it is a splendid tonic and awakens the appetite for happiness.

Colonel Ingersoll wrote on his photograph which adorns my home: "To the
man who knows that mirth is medicine and laughter lengthens life."