Among the earliest fossilized remains no funny bone has been found. Doubtless, too, a sense of sorrow came before the sense of humor dawned. Death came, and early man wept long before it occurred to him to laugh and have the world laugh with him. Gregariousness and leisure were necessary before mirth could ensue. All life was subjective; dawning intelligence learned first to look out for Number One. Yet it was early in the game that our primordial ancestors began to see a lighter side of life. Indeed, as Mr. Wells tells us, they mimicked very cleverly, gestured, danced and laughed before they could talk! And the consideration of the development of this almost innate human sense is our present undertaking. The matter falls easily,--almost too easily,--into three divisions. Let us call them, Ancient, Middle and Modern. This is perhaps not an original idea of division, but it is certainly the best for a preliminary arrangement. And it may not be convenient to stick religiously to consecutive dates; our progress may become logical rather than chronological. As to a general division, then, let us consider Ancient Humor as a period from the very beginning down to the time of the Greeks. The Middle Division to continue until about the time of Chaucer. And the Modern Period from that time to the present. ANCIENT HUMOR After careful consideration of all available facts and theories of the earliest mental processes of our race, we must come to the conclusion that mirth had its origin in sorrow; that laughter was the direct product of tears. Nor are they even yet completely dissevered. Who has not laughed till he cried? Who has not cried herself into hysterical laughter? All theories of humor include an element of unhappiness; all joy has its hint of pain. And so, when our archæologists hold the mirror up to prehistoric nature, we see among the earliest reflected pictures, a procession or group of evolving humanity about to sacrifice human victims to their monstrous superstitions and, withal, showing a certain festival cheerfulness. Moreover, we note that they are fantastically dressed, and wear horns and painted masks. Surely, the first glimmerings of a horrid mirth are indubitably the adjunct of such celebrations. Since we have reason to believe that man mimicked before he could talk,--and, observing a baby, we have no difficulty in believing this,--we readily believe that his earliest mimicries aroused a feeling of amusement in his auditors, and as their applause stimulated him to fresh effort, the ball was set rolling and the fun began. From mimicry was born exaggeration and the horns and painted masks were grotesque and mirth-provoking. Yet were they also used to inculcate fear, and moreover had significance as expressions of sorrow and woe. Thus the emotions, at first, were rather inextricably intermingled, nor are they yet entirely untangled and straightened out.