The two early phases of the ludicrous—­those of pleasure and of hostility—­containing small complexity, and a large proportion of emotion, are to a certain extent felt by the lower animals.  Dr. Darwin has observed an approximation to the laughter of pleasure in monkeys, but he does not connect it with intelligence, and would not, I believe, claim for them any sense of the ludicrous.  I have, however, seen a dog, on suddenly meeting a friend, not only wag his tail, but curl up the corners of his lips, and show his teeth, as if delighted and amused.  We may also have observed a very roguish expression sometimes in the face of a small dog when he is barking at a large one, just as a cat evidently finds some fun in tormenting and playing with a captured mouse.  I have even heard of a monkey who, for his amusement, put a live cat into a pot of boiling water on the fire.  These animals are those most nearly allied to man, but the perception of the ludicrous is not strong enough in them to occasion laughter.  The opinion of Vives that animals do not laugh because the muscles of their countenances do not allow them, can scarcely be regarded as philosophical.  Milton tells us that,

     “Smiles from reason flow, To brutes denied;”

a statement which may be taken as generally correct, although we admit that there may be some approximation to smiling among the lower animals, and that it does not always necessarily proceed from reason.

The pleasure found in hostile laughter soon led to practical jokes.  Although now discountenanced, they were anciently very common, and formed the first link between humour and the ludicrous.  They were not imitative, and did not show any actual power to invent what was humorous, but a desire to amuse by doing something which might cause some ludicrous action or scene, just as people unable to speak would point to things they wish to designate.  These early jokes had severer objects coupled with amusement, and were what we should call no joke at all.  The first character in the records of antiquity that seems to have had anything quaint or droll about it is that of Samson.  Standing out amid the confusion of legendary times, he gives us good specimens of the fierce and wild kind of merriment relished in ancient days; and was fond of making very sanguinary “sport for the Philistines.”  He was an exaggeration of a not very uncommon type of man, in which brute strength is joined to loose morals and whimsical fancy.  People were more inclined to laugh at sufferings formerly, because they were not keenly sensitive to pain, and also had less feeling and consideration for others.  That Samson found some malicious kind of pleasure and diversion in his reprisals on his enemies, and made their misfortunes minister to his amusement, is evident from the strange character of his exploits.  “He caught three hundred foxes, and took fire-brands, and turned tail to tail, and put a fire-brand in the midst between two tails, and when he had set the brands