give rise to a certain degree of artificiality when an effort is made to fit American humor to their measure. In this sense,

it could be said that all forms of literary expression are artificial in their nature, but it is not necessary to go so far or to lay undue stress on a poignant truth. The fact remains that the vernacular, as distinct from literary form and finish, is the natural vehicle of the most persistent and most popular variety of American humor: hence the frequent employment of what is called dialect. This necessity has had its influence abroad, and the typical American—the man who represents the common people is supposed to be a person indifferent to the ordinary refinements of life-a careless galoot, indifferent to the course of events and utterly reckless.

Mr. Kipling's ballad of an American takes the measure of this typical person as he is thought of abroad, and presents him at full length. It must be admitted that the figure Mr. Kipling draws is neither a heroic nor a pretty one; but this is because the poet is inclined to take American humor too seriously. It is far from meaning all it says, and the various antics which it reports as taking place before high heaven are merely pleasing inventions. The poet preserves the unities by placing the American spirit on the witness-stand, and this spirit, after venturing to make a list of incredible faults and virtues, announces that it will save the reckless American at last. American humor is a temperamental quality, and belongs to the many instead of a few chosen ones; and yet, when it is taken as seriously as our foreign friends are inclined to take it, its whole effect is destroyed, and we have a view, not of the genuine Amer can, but of a grinning loafer at the corner grocery, who is willing to match with destiny for beers. Nevertheless, the insight of the poet is superior to the impression made on him by American humor as a whole, and, in

spite of his scorn for the outward aspect of the American, there is something fine and large and free in the figure he draws, for it is not to be denied that there is a certain grimness about the home-made portraits of ourselves painted by our humorists -something suggestive of the soil, in spite of prosperity and in the face of a material and commercial progress without a parallel. There is nothing attractive about them save to those who know something of the motives and the interior workings of the American mind, which, in spite of its humorous idiosyncrasies, stands for business, for the aggressive commercialism that has alarmed the world—and also for the tolerance, the sympathy, and broad views and the generous conceptions that are the basis and groundwork of humor the world over.

To take a concrete example: there seems to be a good deal of truth in the statement that Abraham Lincoln was a typical American; and a number of biographies have been written to prove it. These volumes deal with the events, the troubles, the doubts, the difficulties, the confusion of conflicting interests, the perplexities of the hour, the passions and the prejudices that swarmed about him, and they are exceedingly interesting in and of themselves; but not one of them presents the man as he was, and as the people conceived him to be. They knew perfectly well that the melancholy of which he was said. to be the victim was merely the exaggeration of spectators, and that, at its worst, it was but the shadow of a deep-seated purpose the gentle abstraction that shed a beautiful light on his desires, and that served as an exquisite foil for his humor. They knew that the sorrows from which he suffered merely sweetened his nature and strengthened his soul. It was his humor that was typical. In its exuberance, and in its apparent untimeliness-if we are to believe the reports of stupefied

and astonished dignity-it was essentially the humor of the common people, the people who have made the Republic what it is, and who will continue to mold its destiny.

It is well to believe in the social and commercial scheme of salvation which the American spirit has mapped out for itself; for, always and everywhere, it remains true to the ideals represented by the promoters and organizers of the Republic. The American whom it represents has had little time for the enjoyment of luxury, or for the cultivation of the extra trimmings and embroideries of refinement. He has always had much to do; business pursues him as he pursues business; and yet, after all is said, his salute and his "so-long" go as far as those of any man in the world. He has been compelled to reorganize his own social organization to meet the demands made possible and pressing by the results of a great civil war; he has been called on to refashion and, in some sort, extend the operation of his political affairs, in order that he may keep pace with a sort of world development that he has inaugurated. Not only has he been compelled to remold the hordes of refugees from old-world tyranny that have come to these shores, but it has been in the line of his trade and traffic to seize the crowns nearest at hand and deposit them in the trash-pile; and to-day he feels that he is but bending to the will of destiny in carrying liberty and ultimate self-government to new peoples in the far islands of the south seas.

There are those, of course, who enter bitter protest against the American's commercialism, his devotion to the projects of trade and material development; but, so long as he carries his humor into his business, all will be well. There are those, too, who are inclined to criticize his recent adventures in alien and unfriendly seas, declaring that these later exploits come dangerously near to committing the country to imperialism

the imperialism of which Mr. Kipling is the laureate. But, if crowns can have their imperialism, with poets to back them, why may not freedom and independence, freedom and selfgovernment, have their nobler imperialism? And why may not this imperialism of liberty reach out for new lands and new peoples on which to impose the blessings that we are fondly supposed to enjoy? Why may not the imperialism of selfgovernment spread until it becomes not only epidemic and contagious but confluent? To venture the suggestion is not to get very far away from the Spirit that spoke so loudly in the poet's unbelieving ear.

It is intended that the selections to be found in these volumes shall have more than a passing and a particular interest. Rightly interpreted, they will answer many questions that have perplexed foreigners. First and foremost, men who can see their own weak points, and laugh at them more heartily than disinterested spectators, can be depended on not to wander far from their own ideals. In the light of his own humor, the American stands forth as the conqueror of circumstance, who has created for himself the most appalling responsibilities, which he undertakes and carries out with a wink and a nod, whistling a hymn or a rag-time tune, to show that he is neither weary nor down-hearted.

To the examples in prose and verse have been added specimens of the pictorial humor which has for some years engaged the attention of some of our brightest humorists.

Acknowledgment

Acknowledgment and thanks for permitting the use of selections appearing in this volume are gratefully made to HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & CO., Boston,

For "Who Paid for the Prima Donna?" from "Wensley and Other Stories," by EDMUND QUINCY; "An Aphorism and a Lecture," "Foreign Correspondence," "Music Pounding" (extract), "Dislikes" (short extracts), "The Wonderful One Horse Shay," "My Aunt," "The Ballad of the Oysterman,” "The Height of the Ridiculous," "A Walk with the Schoolmistress," by O. W. HOLMES; "The Minister's Wooing,' by HARRIET BEECHER STOWE; "The British Matron," from "Lemington Spa," "Dr. Heidegger's Experiment," from "Twice Told Tales," "Mr. Higginbotham's Catastrophe," from "Twice Told Tales," by NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE.