The rollicking newspaper humor of the day is of modern origin. It is even yet young in years. Humorists and newspaper wits were once--say a score of years ago--considered a rarity in America. At that time humor of the day meant the productions of a very few--Mark Twain, Joe Neal, Artemus Ward, Major Jones, and one or two others. To-day it means a certain _jeu d’esprit_ that can readily be discovered in almost every first-class newspaper extant. In fact, every American journal of any prominence possesses its salaried paragrapher, who is required to produce, at stipulated intervals, a certain quantity of original humor, whether or no the said paragrapher be in a humorous mood. A paragrapher is a writer of paragraphs, and paragraphs, in an American newspaper, are commonly understood to be short, concise, spicy and readable gems of wit and humor. In undertaking to present, in printed form, brief biographical sketches relative to the life, character, and works of representative American humorists, I entered into the work with the idea of entertaining and pleasing the American public at large, and not with the intent of delighting the individual humorist. The volume that I offer to the reading public is the work of two years, or at least a portion of that time. When I first began on the work I wrote to Mark Twain, asking for a brief introduction, thinking that such an acquisition to the book, coming from such a source, would be highly valuable. At the time of receiving my letter the genial humorist was busily engaged putting the finishing touches to his Tramp Abroad, and he, as a result, cruelly--I will not say wantonly--cut me off with a shilling. However, I give Twain’s reply to my communication, for, notwithstanding its briefness, the epistle contains at least one small grain of that peculiar wit for which the funny man of Hartford is noted. Here it is: “HARTFORD, CONN., NOV. 18, 1879. “WILL M. CLEMENS: “My Dear Friend--Your letter received. Lord bless your heart! I would like ever so much to comply with your request, but I am thrashing away at my new book, and am afraid that I should not find time to write my own epitaph in case I was suddenly called for. ‘Wishing you and your book well, believe me, Yours truly, SAMUEL L. CLEMENS.” There being such a vast field from which to select the titles to these sketches, I have, perhaps, unintentionally omitted or neglected a certain few of the great and growing circle of funny men. I have also omitted, intentionally, such humorists as Irving, Bret Harte, and others of a like stamp, who do not, in any sense, belong to the class of newspaper humorists. W. M. C. CLEVELAND, OHIO, 1882 SAMUEL LANGHORNE CLEMENS.