Good Advice On one occasion Emperor Joseph II returned the poems of a very indifferent poetess whose name was Kemeter, with this marginal note: “My dear Kemeter, you had better make hemeter” (shirts). The Unusual Postilion Emperor Joseph II traveled under the name of Count von Falkenburg. Once, when passing through Stuttgart, the Duke of Würtemberg offered to him the use of the castle, but the Emperor declined, saying he would rather go quietly to a hotel. Then the Duke ordered all hotelkeepers of Stuttgart to take down their signs and had an immense one put over the castlegate which bore these words: “Hotel Emperor Joseph II.” Such an invitation the Emperor could not resist. When he descended from his carriage, the Duke received him, dressed as a hotelkeeper, while members of the highest nobility played the parts of servants. The most beautiful ladies, in cap and apron acted as chambermaids, some noblemen as waiters. The Emperor entered into the joke heartily, and it was carried on through the day in the most charming manner. His going was as remarkable as his coming. When the coach drove up, a postilion mounted the horse. His shabby coat and dirty boots drew the Emperor’s attention. “This fellow,” he said, laughing, “is certainly no flatterer; he did not even put on his Sunday coat. He looks as if he liked a drink; we must give him a good tip.” But the postilion drove with great skill, and very fast. When they reached the first station his Majesty was going to give him a good tip but was told that it was the Prince —— who had driven him in his own coach. The Emperor thanking him said: “You made a splendid postilion, but if I had watched you, I should have discovered the fraud, for now I think of it, you did not swear once.” The Fourth Vow A knight of the Maltese Cross, once boasted before Emperor Leopold II: “We took three vows, that of poverty, of chastity, and of obedience.” “As far as I know,” returned the Emperor, “you made a fourth one,—that, of not intending to keep any of the three.” The Two Exceptions A quick, witty answer always won the heart of Frederick William I. Once, on horseback, he turned a street corner, and found himself so close to a young man that his horse’s nose touched the latter’s breast. “Who are you?” he asked harshly. “A Candidatus Theologiæ, your Majesty.” “Where from?” “From Berlin.” “Pshaw, the Berliners don’t amount to anything.” “The majority certainly do not, your Majesty, but there are exceptions. I know of two.” “Who are they?” “Your Majesty and—myself.” This was a man after the King’s own heart, unafraid, quick-witted. It was not long before he had a good parish. The Empty Upper Story King Frederick William I after an audience with an Ambassador, said to his equerry, who was present: “Isn’t he a tall, handsome man? What do you think of his head?”