Those who consider humour objectionable, have no idea of the variety of
circumstances under which our emotions may be excited. A man may smile
at his own misfortunes after they are over--sometimes our laughter seems
scarcely directed against anyone, and in the most profane and indelicate
humour there is often nothing personal.
Occasionally it is too general to wound, being aimed at nations, as in
my old friend's saying, "The French do not know what they want, and will
never be satisfied until they get it," or it may strike at the great
mass of mankind, as when one of the same dissatisfied nation calls
marriage "a tiresome book with a very fine preface." There is nothing
unamiable in Goldsmith's reflection upon the rustic simplicity of the
villagers, when he says of the schoolmaster--
"And still the wonder grew,
How one small head could carry all he knew."
Again, we may ask, what person can be possibly injured by most of the
humorous stories in which our Transatlantic cousins delight, such as
that an American, describing a severe winter said, "Why I had a cow on
my farm up the Hudson river, and she got in among the ice, and was
carried down three miles before we could get her out again. And what do
you suppose has been the consequence? why, she has milked nothing but
ice-cream ever since.
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