Abraham Lincoln, that divinely tender man, believed that fun was an
intellectual impetus, for he read Artemus Ward to his Cabinet before
reading his famous emancipation proclamation, and laying down his book
marked the place to resume.

Joel Chandler Harris, whose delightful stories of negro life hold such a
high place in American literature, told me a story of an old negro who
claimed that a sense of humor was necessary to happiness in married
life. He said:

"I met a poor old darkey one day, pushing a wheelbarrow loaded with
cooking utensils and household effects. Seeing me looking curiously at
him, he shook his head and said:

"'I cain't stand her no longer, boss, I jes' nash'ully cain't stand her
no longer.'

"'What's the matter, uncle?' I inquired.

"'Well, you see, suh, she ain't got no idee o' fun--she won't take a
joke nohow. The other night I went home, an' I been takin' a little jes'
to waam ma heart--das all, jes to waam ma heart--an' I got to de fence,
an' tried to climb it. I got on de top, an' thar I stays; I couldn't git
one way or t'other. Then a gem'en comes along, an' I says, "Would you
min' givin' me a push?" He says, "Which way you want to go?" I says,
"Either way--don't make no dif'unce, jes' so I git off de fence, for
hit's pow'ful oncom'fable up yer." So he give me a push, an' sont me
over to'ard ma side, an' I went home. Then I want sum'in t' eat, an' my
ol' 'ooman she wouldn' git it fo' me, an' so, jes' fo' a joke, das
all--jes' a joke, I hit 'er awn de haid. But would you believe it, she