Low gurgling laughter, as sweet

Happy the heart that keeps its twilight hour, And, in the depths of heavenly peace reclined. Loves to commune with thoughts of tender power; Thoughts that ascend, like angels beautiful, A shining Jacob's ladder of the mind.

This is my world! within these narrow walls, I own a princely service.

I think, ofttimes, that lives of men may be Likened to wandering winds that come and go, Not knowing whence they rise, whither they blow O’er the vast globe, voiceful of grief or glee.

Wot cher! all the neighbours cried, Who yer gonna meet, Bill, Have yer bought the street, Bill? Laugh! I thought I should've died, Knocked 'em in the Old Kent Road.

What things have we seen Done at the Mermaid! heard words that have been So nimble and so full of subtile flame As if that every one from whence they came Had meant to put his whole wit in a jest, And resolved to live a fool the rest

It would be obviously unfair to describe the Chinese people as wanting in humour simply because they are tickled by jests which leave us comparatively unmoved. Few of our own most amusing stories will stand conversion into Chinese terms.