When we consider the fact that matter is that which gives, and mind that which receives impressions, or that our perceptions do not teach the nature of external things, but that of our own constitution, we shall admit that there is not such a fundamental difference between feelings derived from the sense of touch, and those coming through our other senses.  But we must observe that there is a great practical difference between them, inasmuch as the one sense remains in its original primitive state, and is not cultivated as are the others.  Physical laughter requires no previous experience, no exercise of judgment, and therefore has no connection with the intellectual powers of the mind.  The lowest boor may laugh on being tickled, but a man must have intelligence to be amused by wit.  The senses which are the least discriminating are the least productive of humour, little is derived from that of smell or of taste, though we may talk sometimes of an educated palate and an acquired taste.  The finer organs of sight and hearing are the chief mediums of humour, but the sense of touch might by education be rendered exquisitely sensitive, and Dickens mentions the case of a girl he met in Switzerland who was blind, deaf, and dumb, but who was constantly laughing.  Among infants, also, where very slight complication is required, the sense of humour can be excited by touch.  Thus nurses will sing, “Brow brinky, eye winkey, nose noppy, cheek cherry, mouth merry,” and greatly increase the little one’s appreciation by, at the same time, touching the features named.  Contact with other bodies occasions a sensation, and might, by degrees, awaken an emotion; and we might thus have such a sense of the ludicrous as that obtained through eye and ear, which is sometimes almost intuitive, and but slightly derived from reflection or experience.  Of this kind is that aroused by the rapid changes of form and colour of the kaleidoscope, and those pantomimic representations which amuse the young and uneducated, and others who live mostly in the senses.

We have now arrived at the emotional phase of laughter, that in which emotion far exceeds intellectual action.  At this stage, we have a kind of laughter which we may call that of pleasure, inasmuch as it is the first that deserves a distinct name.  This laughter of pleasure required very little complication of thought, contained no unamiable feeling, and expressed the mildest sense of the ludicrous.  At the same time, it did not flow from any mere constitutional joyousness, but only arose upon certain occasions, in consequence of some remarkable and unusual occurrence—­such as the reception of glad tidings, or the sudden acquisition of some good fortune.  This ancient laughter, now no longer existing, is alluded to in early writings.