Few Women Laugh Heartily

1910

Whether Due to Lack of Humor or Childhood's Training Is Unknown, But Fact Remains

Women laugh too little. Whether this is due to their lack of humor or to childhood's training in gentle manners may be questioned. Certain it is that a hearty laugh in a woman's voice is rare music. An audience of women rustles with amusement, but seldom laughs. A group of girls giggle, but do not laugh. A woman reading the most brilliantly humorous story seldom gets beyond a smile.

When Sir Walter Besant, in his clever skit, "The Revolt of Man," pictured the time in the twentieth century when women should have usurped all power — political, ecclesiastical and social — he shrewdly noted that laughter had died out in England; and when men revolted against their feminine tyrants, they came back to their own with peals of laughter.

A Paris doctor has recently opened a place for the laughter cure. It is a private institution, and large fees are charged. The patients sit around a room, and at a given moment begin to smile at each other. The smile broadens to a grin, and at a signal to a peal of laughter. Two hours a day of this healthful exercise is said to cure the worst cases of dyspepsia. But whether the habit of laughing easily and naturally could be acquired by this process is doubtful. — Montreal Herald.

A Salute Wasted — Was Old Negro Cook, Not the General

1900

The flag-ship Monongahela was anchored off the navy-yard at Pensacola Bay in 186—, and Admiral Farragut, who was then in command, was on board. He had been very busy the week before paying official calls on the mainland, and among those who had entertained him was General Canby. When, therefore, word was received that the general would visit the ship the next day, the admiral was determined to have everything ready to receive him in a style becoming his rank.

The old boat was scrubbed and holystoned from stem to stern, the bright work was given an extra rub, and things generally were put into the best of order. Captain Heywood, now brigadier-general commandant of the marine corps, had a special inspection of his company of marines, and not a spot of rust or a dull helmet spike escaped his notice. When night closed in, darkness settled down over a very clean ship and a very tired ship's company.

Bright and early the next morning the admiral's launch was sent off to bring the general aboard. At the last moment it was discovered that there was no fruit for luncheon, and Pompey, the admiral's cook, was sent in the dingy to get some.

Pompey was a character in his way, and had been with the admiral for many years. He was very proud of what he called his military bearing, and wore his beard carefully trimmed to a point. His hair and beard were nearly white, and although he was sixty years old, he ruled the other negroes with a rod of iron.

By ten o'clock every one was standing by in full dress, when the quartermaster came aft and reported that the admiral's launch was returning.

The officer of the deck walked to the rail and took a squint at the boat through his glasses. A man clad in a blue uniform was seated in the admiral's cane chair in the stern, but as the gunwale struck him just below the shoulder and the awning hid his head, the officer of the deck was not certain that it was General Canby until, as the wind lifted the edge of the awning, he caught a glimpse of a gray beard.

Word was passed that the general was coming off. The crew were beat to quarters, the marine guard paraded, and the gun squad, detailed to fire the salutes took their stations.

Everything was in readiness, and the admiral and his staff stood at the head of the gangway to receive the guest. A hush of expectancy settled over the ship.

The boat drew nearer. Just as the launch scraped alongside, boom! boom!! came the salute from the guns.

"Present arms!" came the command to the guard, and at a sign from the flag officer the band struck up "Hail to the Chief."

Amid all this military pomp and splendor the occupant of the launch was slowly clambering out, feet foremost, and just as the last gun was fired he stood erect at the top of the gangway.

Merciful heavens! It was Pompey, with a bag of fruit in each hand!

Confusion! The honors intended for a general had been rendered a negro cook! As the situation dawned on the men, even discipline could not check a general shout of laughter. The old admiral himself laughed until he could laugh no more.

It seemed that in some way the dingy had gone off and left the old negro, and that he had managed to convince the coxswain that "Marse Farragut was jes' bound to have dat fruit befo' the general came."

Pompey wanted to land at the port gangway, but the coxswain insisted that the admiral's launch never went to the port side, and that the old man would have to land on the starboard side, aft.

Had the awning been a little higher, the mistake in identification would not have occurred. As things were, no one could be blamed, and the affair was treated as a joke, while Pompey was nicknamed the "General."

When, an hour later, General Canby did come off, he was received with all due ceremony, and on being told the story, laughed till the tears rolled down his cheek; and demanded to see the man who had stolen his salute. — Youth's Companion.

The Queen of Romance

1904

An English lady tells a story of Queen Victoria which she believes has not before appeared in print, and which she knows is true. Three children were walking along the road between Windsor and Stoke Poges. They heard the sound of carriage wheels. It was the queen's carriage, and she was in it.

The oldest child, a little boy, had been reading Oriental stories and fairy lore. He knew what was due to a queen, and cried to the others: "Get down flat in the dust before the carriage, and we'll all call out at once, 'O queen, live forever!'"

Down went the three little bodies flat in the dust, much to the mystification of the coachman, who reined up sharply.

The queen leaned forward and asked, "What in the world is the matter, children? Are you frightened?"

Three voices came out of the dust in a smothered treble: "Yes; O queen!"

Then there was a pause, and one reproachful voice said, "There, we forgot the 'live forever' part!"

The queen grasped the situation and laughed aloud, as her coachman afterward said, "more heartily than she had laughed for years."

Suspenders and Suspense

1904

A certain Congressman from a mountain district, says the New York Sun, is troubled with a weak, squeaky little voice which sometimes falls in the midst of what might otherwise be an eloquent peroration.

Recently in addressing the House on a matter connected with the tariff, he exclaimed: "Why, tariffs are like a pair of suspenders, sometimes tight and sometimes loose; but Uncle Sam needs them just the same, to keep up his-"

Here the Congressman's voice struck a high treble note, flared and stopped.

The House held its breath while he cleared his throat. The suspense, which seemed to last for fully a minute, was more painful to the auditors than to the orator, for everyone was wondering whether he would say "trousers" or "pants," and some were even hoping that he might say "pantaloons." Even "overalls" would be better than "pants," for "pants" is most unparliamentary.

But all fears were without foundation. He cleared his throat with the greatest care, and in a death-like stillness resumed his oration where he had dropped it: "to keep up his running expenses —"

The words which followed were lost forever in a gale of laughter.

Laughter a Series of Barks

1909

Laughing is barking, say the scientists. The neck and head are thrown back while a series of short barks are emitted from the throat. However musical the barks may be, they are barks.

The laugh begins with a sudden and violent contraction of the muscles of the chest and abdomen. But instead of opening to let the air pass out of the lungs, the vocal cords approach each other and hold it back. But they are not strong enough to exercise such opposition for more than an instant, and the air, which is under pressure, promptly escapes. As it does so it makes the vocal cords vibrate producing the bark.

This obstruction and liberation of the air expelled from the lungs repeats itself again and again at intervals of a quarter of a second. There are thus in a hearty laugh four barks a second, and if continued, they go on at that rate as long as the air reserve in the lungs holds out. The empty lungs must then fill themselves, and this interval is marked by a quick gasp for breath, after which the barks are renewed. The barks occur in series with gasps for breath at intervals.

When laughter is violent, the entire body participates. The upper part of the trunk bends and straightens itself alternately or sways to right and left. The feet stamp on the floor, while the hands are pressed upon the loins to moderate the painful spasm.

Author of "Flying Machine" Poem Sees First Airplane

Author of "Darius Green and His Flying Machine"

1910

John Townsend Trowbridge Wrote the Poem 40 Years Ago, and the Whole Country Laughed

Boston. — Among the thousands of persons who witnessed the recent aviation meet at Boston there was no more interesting spectator than John Townsend Trowbridge, author of the poem, "Darius Green and his Flying Machine," which made the whole country laugh 40 years ago.

Despite his advanced age, 83, Mr. Trowbridge journeyed from his home in Arlington, Mass., to this city in order to take his first look at a machine which had been his dream from boyhood — a machine which would fly. He was introduced to several of the aviators, among them Glen Curtiss, Grahame White, Wilbur White and others, and the old gentleman was immensely pleased to meet them.

When Mr. Trowbridge wrote about Darius Green, 40 years ago, no one of that time expected to see a flying machine that would fly. There were lots of machines that wouldn't, but the idea of usurping the realm of the birds carried something uncanny with it. The baleful results of experiments of those times were always looked upon, more or less, as deserved.

Speaking of the days of Darius Green, the poet says: "I never dreamed when I wrote that poem that such a thing as a flying machine was possible in my time. I never had the thought of actually seeing one. While I have never attempted to build one, I have followed the aeroplane development from the first, and it has always seemed to me that the greatest factor and the hardest to overcome would be the motive force.

"I have never known that there were such powerful motors, and motors so light, as they are now using. They were a revelation to me. I don't care to make any prophecies as to the future, but it seems to me that the large machine for carrying passengers is possible, and only a matter of time."

Laughing Gas Jags College Students

Feb. 1920

University Men Have Lively Scientific Experiment

LOS ANGELES, Cal. -- Scores of Occidental College men students took advantage of the opportunity of becoming intoxicated under jurisdiction of the faculty, and they apparently enjoyed it thoroughly.

"Laughing gas" caused the intoxication of at least half of the men students. Dr. Elbert E. Chandler, head of the department of chemistry at the college, administered the gas as a demonstration to the students to show how it affects them.

Athlete Becomes Bird

"Bobby" Hadden, captain of the basketball team, was the first. The gas transformed him into a bird, and he flew all over the campus. When he came from under the influence of the gas he was several blocks away chatting with a street light.

Louis McKellar, another student, upon taking the gas, began to call for a "seven" or "eleven."

Frank Carpenter played leapfrog and tried to climb several trees.

Andrew Grube ably fought and conquered an imaginary Jack Dempsey.

He Runs a Mile

Roscoe Alcock ran a mile race.

Bill Burns danced a jig.

"Andy" Dunlap just laughed.

"Buzz" Walker and "Bill" Work scared the girls.

Irye Townsend hunted for goldfish in the drinking fountain.

The Arrangement of Cut Flowers

1874

The London Gardener says that of all the various mistakes made by persons in arranging flowers, the commonest is that of putting too many in a vase; and next to that, is the mistake of putting too great a variety of colors in one bouquet. Every flower in a group should be clearly distinguishable and determinable without pulling the nosegay to pieces; the calyx of a cove pink should never be hid by being plunged into the head of a white phlox, however well the colors may look.

Sweet peas never look so well in the hands as they do on the boughs over which they climb, because they cannot be carried without crowding them; but put them lightly in a vase with an equal number of mignonette, or rather, ornament a vase half full of mignonette, with a few blossoms of sweet peas, and you get a charming effect, because you follow the natural arrangement by avoiding crowding of the blossoms, and putting them with the green foliage which they want to set them off.

Few people are aware, until they try it, how easy it is to spoil such a pleasing combination as this; a piece of calceolaria, scarlet geranium, or blue salvia, would ruin it effectually. Such decided colors as these require to be grouped in another vase, and should not even be placed on the table with sweet peas.


Laugh and Be Healthy

The physiological benefit of laughter is explained in the Archiv fur Psychiatrie: The comic-like tickling causes a reflex action of the sympathetic nerve, by which the caliber of the vascular portions of the system is diminished, and their nervous power increased. The average pressure of the cerebral vessels on the brain substance is thus decreased, and this is compensated for by the forced expiration of laughter, and the larger amount of blood thus called to the lungs. We always feel good when we laugh, but until now we never knew the scientific reason why.