searched the only
money found on him was a crooked sixpence. One of the thieves remarked
glumly:

"If he'd had a good shilling, he'd have killed the three of us."

And there is the classic from _Punch_ of the Scotchman, who, on his
return home from a visit to London, in describing his experiences,
declared:

"I had na been there an hour when bang! went saxpence!"

Anent the Irish bull, we may quote an Irishman's answer when asked to
define a bull. He said:

"If you see thirteen cows lying down in a field, and one of them is
standing up, that's a bull."

A celebrity to whom many Irish bulls have been accredited was Sir Boyle
Roche. He wrote in a letter:

"At this very moment, my dear----, I am writing this with a sword in one
hand and a pistol in the other."

He it was who in addressing the Irish House of Commons asserted stoutly:

"Single misfortunes never come alone, and the greatest of all possible
misfortune is usually followed by a greater."

And there is the hospitable invitation of the Irishman:

"Sir, if you ever come within a mile of my house, I hope you will stop
there." And it was an Irishman who remarked to another concerning a
third: "You are thin, and I am thin, but he's as thin as the two of us
put together." Also, it was an Irishman who, on being overtaken by a
storm, remarked to his friend: "Sure, we'll get under a tree, and whin
it's wet through, faith, we'll get under another."

Naturally, we Americans have our own bulls a plenty, and they are by no
means all derived from our Irish stock. Yet, that same Irish stock
contributes largely and very snappily to our fund of humor. For the
matter of that, the composite character of our population multiplies the
varying phases of our fun. We draw for laughter on all the almost
countless racial elements that form our citizenry. And the whole content
of our wit and humor is made vital by the spirit of youth. The newness
of our land and nation gives zest to the pursuit of mirth. We ape the
old, but fashion its semblance to suit our livelier fancy. We moralize
in our jesting like the Turk, but are likely to veil the maxim under
the motley of a Yiddish dialect. Our humor may be as meditative as the
German at its best, but with a grotesque flavoring all our own. Thus,
the widow, in plaintive reminiscence concerning the dear departed, said
musingly:

"If John hadn't blowed into the muzzle of his gun, I guess he'd 'a' got
plenty of squirrels. It was su