In Dangerfield's certainly there was an omen--a glee that had nothing to do with mirth; and more dismaying, perhaps, than his sternest rebuke.

If a man is not a laugher by nature, he had better let it alone.

The bipeds that love mousing and carrion have a chant of their own, and nobody quarrels with it.

We respect an owl or a raven, though we mayn't love him, while he sticks to his croak or to-whoo.

'Tisn't pleasant, but quite natural and unaffected, and we acquiesce.