of my time and my strength, by giving me a piece of information that he knew to be false; yet every one thought it delightfully humorous. The only excuse I could find for this conduct was that they were a nation of half-breeds, and did not know any better. Indeed, as time went on, American humour was to me the most disagreeable part of Americans. It lacked finesse: it was not funny to me—only undeveloped and childish. Daily I was told that I had no sense of humour, and that, like an Englishman, I needed a surgical operation to appreciate what was so highly appreciable.
Finally, I got very tired of being told I had no humour and could not understand an American joke; so I determined to prove to them that I not only understood their silly jokes but could play them myself, if I chose. Now to me the essence of an American joke was a lie, told with a sober face, and in an earnest voice. I played one on a girl boarder. To my surprise, the girl, instead of laughing, began to cry and sob, and almost went into hysterics. It made a great rumpus in the school, and the principal sent for me.
"My dear, is what you said true?" she asked, with the greatest concern.
"No, not a word of it," I replied.
"Then why did you say it to the poor girl?"
"To deceive her, and play an American joke on her."
