son　or　other　we　permit　this　story…telling　habit　to　invade　and　damage　our　whole　social　life。　The　English　always　criticise　this　and　think　they　are　absolutely　right。　To　my　mind　in　their　social　life　they　give　the　〃funny　story〃　its　proper　place　and　room　and　no　more。　That　is　to　sayif　ten　people　draw　their　chairs　in　to　the　dinner　table　and　somebody　really　has　just　heard　a　story　and　wants　to　tell　it；　there　is　no　reason　against　it。　If　he　says；　〃Oh；　by　the　way；　I　heard　a　good　story　to…day；〃　it　is　just　as　if　he　said；　〃Oh；　by　the　way；　I　heard　a　piece　of　news　about　John　Smith。〃　It　is　quite　admissible　as　conversation。　But　he　doesn't　sit　down　to　try　to　think；　along　with　nine　other　rival　thinkers；　of　all　the　stories　that　he　had　heard；　and　that　makes　all　the　difference。
  The　Scotch；　by　the　way；　resemble　us　in　liking　to　tell　and　hear　stories。　But　they　have　their　own　line。　They　like　the　stories　to　be　grim；　dealing　in　a　jocose　way　with　death　and　funerals。　The　story　begins　（will　the　reader　kindly　turn　it　into　Scotch　pronunciation　for　himself）；　〃There　was　a　Sandy　MacDonald　had　died　and　the　wife　had　the　body　all　laid　out　for　burial　and　dressed　up　very　fine　in　his　best　suit；〃　etc。　Now　for　me　that　beginning　is　enough。　To　me　that　is　not　a　story；　but　a　tragedy。　I　am　so　sorry　for　Mrs。　MacDonald　that　I　can't　think　of　anything　else。　But　I　think　the　explanation　is　that　the　Scotch　are　essentially　such　a　devout　people　and　live　so　closely　within　the　shadow　of　death　itself　that　they　may　without　irreverence　or　pain　jest　where　our　lips　would　falter。　Or　else；　perhaps　they　don't　care　a　cuss　whether　Sandy　MacDonald　died　or　not。　Take　it　either　way。
  But　I　am　tired　of　talking　of　our　faults。　Let　me　turn　to　the　more　pleasing　task　of　discussing　those　of　the　English。　In　the　first　place；　and　as　a　minor　matter　of　form；　I　think　that　English　humour　suffers　from　the　tolerance　afforded　to　the　pun。　For　some　reason　English　people　find　puns　funny。　We　don't。　Here　and　there；　no　doubt；　a　pun　may　be　made　that　for　some　exceptional　reason　becomes　a　matter　of　genuine　wit。　But　the　great　mass　of　the　English　puns　that　disfigure　the　Press　every　week　are　mere　pointless　verbalisms　that　to　the　American　mind　cause　nothing　but　weariness。
  But　even　worse　than　the　use　of　puns　is　the　peculiar　pedantry；　not　to　say　priggishness；　that　haunts　the　English　expression　of　humour。　　To　make　a　mistake　in　a　Latin　quotation　or　to　stick　on　a　wrong　ending　to　a　Latin　word　is　not　really　an　amusing　thing。　To　an　ancient　Roman；　perhaps；　it　might　be。　But　then　we　are　not　ancient　Romans；　indeed；　I　imagine　that　if　an　ancient　Roman　could　be　resurrected；　all　the　Latin　that　any　of　our　classical　scholars　can　command　would　be　about　equivalent　to　the　French　of　a　cockney　waiter　on　a　Channel　steamer。　Yet　one　finds　even　the　immortal　Punch　citing　recently　as　a　very　funny　thing　a　newspaper　misquotation　of　〃urbis　et　orbis〃　instead　of　〃urbi　et　orbos；〃　or　the　other　way　round。　I　forget　which。　Perhaps　there　was　some　further　point　in　it　that　I　didn't　see；　but；　anyway；　it　wasn't　funny。　Neither　is　it　funny　if　a　person；　instead　of　saying　Archimedes；　says　Archimeeds；　why　shouldn't　it　have　been　Archimeeds？　　The　English　scale　of　values　in　these　things　is　all　wrong。　Very　few　Englishmen　can　pronounce　Chicago　properly　and　they　think　nothing　of　that。　But　if　a　person　mispronounces　the　name　of　a　Greek　village　of　what　O。　Henry　called　〃The　Year　B。C。〃　it　is　supposed　to　be　excruciatingly　funny。
  I　think　in　reality　that　this　is　only　a　part　of　the　overdone　scholarship　that　haunts　so　much　of　English　writingnot　the　best　of　it；　but　a　lot　of　it。　It　is　too　full　of　allusions　and　indirect　references　to　all　sorts　of　extraneous　facts。　The　English　writer　finds　it　hard　to　say　a　plain　thing　in　a　plain　way。　He　is　too　anxious　to　show　in　every　sentence　what　a　fine　scholar　he　is。　He　carries　in　his　mind　an　accumulated　treasure　of　quotations；　allusions；　and　scraps　and　tags　of　history；　and　into　this；　like　Jack　Horner；　he　must　needs　〃stick　in　his　thumb　and　pull　out　a　plum。〃　Instead　of　saying；　〃It　is　a　fine　morning；〃　he　prefers　to　write；　〃This　is　a　day　of　which　one　might　say　with　the　melancholy　Jacques；　it　is　a　fine　morning。〃
  Hence　it　is　that　many　plain　American　readers　find　English　humour　〃highbrow。〃　Just　as　the　English　are　apt　to　find　our　humour　〃slangy〃　and　〃cheap；〃　so　we　find　theirs　academic　and　heavy。　But　the　difference；　after　all；　is　of　far　less　moment　than　might　be　supposed。　It　lies　only　on　the　surface。　Fundamentally；　as　I　said　in　starting；　the　humour　of　the　two　peoples　is　of　the　same　kind　and　on　an　equal　level。
  There　is　one　form　of　humour　which　the　English　have　more　or　less　to　themselves；　nor　do　I　envy　it　to　them。　I　mean　the　merriment　that　they　appear　able　to　draw　out　of　the　criminal　courts。　To　me　a　criminal　court　is　a　place　of　horror；　and　a　murder　trial　the　last　word　in　human　tragedy。　The　English　criminal　courts　I　know　only　from　the　newspapers　and　ask　no　nearer　acquaintance。　But　according　to　the　newspapers　the　courts；　especially　when　a　murder　case　is　on；　are　enlivened　by　flashes　of　judicial　and　legal　humour　that　seem　to　meet　with　general　approval。　The　current　reports　in　the　Press　run　like　this：
  〃The　prisoner；　who　is　being　tried　on　a　charge　of　having　burned　his　wife　to　death　in　a　furnace；　was　placed　in　the　dock　and　gave　his　name　as　Evans。　Did　he　say　'Evans　or　Ovens？'　asked　Mr。　Justice　Blank。　　The　court　broke　into　a　roar；　in　which　all　joined　but　the　prisoner。　。　。　。〃　Or　take　this：　〃How　many　years　did　you　say　you　served　the　last　time？〃　　asked　the　judge。　〃Three；〃　said　the　prisoner。　〃Well；　twice　three　is　six；〃　said　the　judge；　laughing　till　his　sides　shook；　〃so　I'll　give　you　six　years。〃
  I　don't　say　that　those　are　literal　examples　of　the　humour　of　the　criminal　court。　But　they　are　close　to　it。　For　a　judge　to　joke　is　as　easy　as　it　is　for　a　schoolmaster　to　joke　in　his　class。　His　unhappy　audience　has　no　choice　but　laughter。　No　doubt　in　point　of　intellect　the　English　judges　and　the　bar　represent　the　most　highly　trained　product　of　the　British　Empire。　But　when　it　comes　to　fun；　they　ought　not　to　pit　themselves　against　the　unhappy　prisoner。
  Why　not　take　a　man　of　their　own　size？　For　true　amusement　Mr。　Charles　Chaplin　or　Mr。　Leslie　Henson　could　give　them　sixty　in　a　hundred。　I　even　think　I　could　myself。
  One　final　judgment；　however；　might　with　due　caution　be　hazarded。　I　do　not　think　that；　on　the　whole；　the　English　are　quite　as　fond　of　humour　as　we　are。　I　mean　they　are　not　so　willing　to　welcome　at　all　times　the　humorous　point　of　view　as　we　are　in　America。　The　English　are　a　serious　people；　with　many　serious　things　to　think　offootball；　horse　racing；　dogs；　fish；　and　many　other　concerns　that　demand　much　national　thought：　they　have　so　many　national　preoccupations　of　this　kind　that　they　have　less　need　for　jokes　than　we　have。　They　have　higher　things　to　talk　about；　whereas　on　our　side　of　the　water；　except　when　the　World's　Series　is　being　played；　we　have　few；　if　any；　truly　national　topics。
  And　yet　I　know　that　many　people　in　England　would　exactly　reverse　this　last　judgment　and　say　that　the　Americans　are　a　desperately　serious　people。　That　in　a　sense　is　true。　Any　American　who　takes　up　with　an　idea　such　as　New　Thought；　Psychoanalysis　or　Eating　Sawdust；　or　any　〃uplift〃　of　the　kind　becomes　desperately　lopsided　in　his　seriousness；　and　as　a　very　large　number　of　us　cultivate　New　Thought；　or　practise　breathing　exercises；　or　eat　sawdust；　no　doubt　the　English　visitors　think　us　a　desperate　lot。
  Anyway；　it's　an　ill　business　to　criticise　another　people's　shortcomings。　What　I　said　at　the　start　was　that　the　British　are　just　as　humorous　as　are　the　Americans；　or　the　Canadians；　or　any　of　us　across　the　Atlantic；　and　for　greater　Certainty　I　repeat　it　at　the　end。
  End