he innocence of childhood, but something
stern and strong, which hardly showed at all at first, but at last
seemed like the slow work of the graver of gems brushing away the
glittering crystalline dust from the intaglio.

XIV

HUMOUR

The Castle of _Joyous Gard_ was always full of laughter; not the wild
giggling, I think, of reckless people, which the writer of Proverbs
said was like the crackling of thorns under a pot; that is a wearisome
and even an ugly thing, because it does not mean that people are
honestly amused, but have some basely exciting thing in their minds.
Laughter must be light-hearted, not light-minded. Still less was it
the dismal tittering of ill-natured people over mean gossip, which is
another of the ugly sounds of life. No, I think it was rather the
laughter of cheerful people, glad to be amused, who hardly knew that
they were laughing; that is a wholesome exercise enough. It was the
laughter of men and women, with heavy enough business behind them and
before them, but yet able in leisurely hours to find life full of
merriment--the voice of joy and health! And I am sure too that it was
not the guarded condescending laughter of saints who do not want to be
out of sympathy with their neighbours, and laugh as precisely and
punctually as they might respond to a liturgy, if they discover that
they are meant to be amused!

Humour is one of the characteristics of _Joyous Gard_, not humour
resolutely cultivated, but the humour which comes from a sane and
healthy sense of proportion; and is a sign of light-heartedness rather
than a thing aimed at; a thing which flows naturally into the easy
spaces of life, because it finds the oddities of life, the
peculiarities of people, the incongruities of thought and speech, both
charming and delightful.

It is a great misfortune that so many people think it a mark of
saintliness to be easily shocked, whereas the greatest saints of all
are the people who are never shocked; they may be distressed, they may
wish things different; but to be shocked is often nothing but a mark
of vanity, a self-conscious desire that others should know how high
one's standard, how sensitive one's conscience is. I do not of course
mean that one is bound to join in laughter, however coarse a jest may
be; but the best-bred and finest-tempered people steer past such
moments with a delicate tact; contrive to show that an ugly jest is
not so much a thing to be disapproved of and re