Are we, then, to look upon laughter as merely O signal for others--a mere sign, like a word? What makes it impossible for people to laugh when they are alone is nothing but want of imagination, dullness of mind generally--[Greek: anaisthaesia kai bradutaes psuchaes], as Theophrastus has it.[1] The lower animals never laugh, either alone or in company. Myson, the misanthropist, was once surprised by one of these people as he was laughing to himself. _Why do you laugh_? he asked; _there is no one with you. That is just why I am laughing_, said Myson. [Footnote 1: _Characters_, c. 27.] * * * * * Natural _gesticulation_, such as commonly accompanies any lively talk, is a language of its own, more widespread, even, than the language of words--so far, I mean, as it is independent of words and alike in all nations. It is true that nations make use of it in proportion as they are vivacious, and that in particular cases, amongst the Italians, for instance, it is supplemented by certain peculiar gestures which are merely conventional, and therefore possessed of nothing more than a local value. In the universal use made of it, gesticulation has some analogy with logic and grammar, in that it has to do with the form, rather than with the matter of conversation; but on the other hand it is distinguishable from them by the fact that it has more of a moral than of an intellectual bearing; in other words, it reflects the movements of the will. As an accompaniment of conversation it is like the bass of a melody; and if, as in music, it keeps true to the progress of the treble, it serves to heighten the effect.