“Tall, handsome people, like the Ambassador, your Majesty, resemble houses four or five stories high. The first three or four stories are generally occupied, but the upper story is empty.” An Effectual Cure While Prince von Lobkowitz was Emperor Leopold’s minister of state, at the beginning of the eighteenth century, the streets of the Austrian capital were in a dreadful condition. Lobkowitz had asked the city officials repeatedly to see that the streets were kept clean, but without avail. Then the Prince, in his capacity as Governor of Vienna, sent for the burgomaster, who arrived in his embroidered court dress, low shoes, and silk stockings. The Prince received him pleasantly, but seemed very busy. “I beg your pardon,” he began, “but urgent business calls me away; come with me in my carriage and we will discuss affairs on the way. I will put you down in your street, so you can send your own carriage home.” The very much flattered and elated burgomaster did so, and took his seat beside the Prince, who began to talk about the weather. Suddenly the minister looked around as if frightened. “Ah,” he said in a tone of deep regret, just as the carriage was going through one of the filthiest streets of the city, “I have mistaken my way. I must ask you to descend here, as my business calls me to the other side of the city, and I am late already.” The footman opened the carriage door, but when the burgomaster saw the sea of mud into which he was to step, he turned to the Prince and begged to be taken a little further. “Impossible,” said Lobkowitz, firmly. So the poor burgomaster, in his court finery, had to step out into the mud into which he sank ankle deep. Lobkowitz laughed aloud. But he never had to complain of dirty streets again. Punished by Proxy A basket of fine cherries having been sent to Frederick the Great, at a time when that fruit was extremely scarce, he sent them by one of his pages to the Queen. The page, tempted by the beauty of the fruit, could not resist tasting, and finding them delicious, devoured them all, without reflecting on the consequences. A few days afterwards Frederick asked the Queen how she had liked the cherries. “Cherries?” said the Queen, “what cherries?” “Why, did not Clist, the page, bring you a basket the other day?” “No,” replied her majesty, “I have not seen any.” “Oh,” said the King, “I will give that rogue something more savory.” He then went to his room and wrote the following note to the officer of the royal guard. “Give the bearer twenty-five lashes, and take his receipt for them.” He then called Clist, and told him to take the note to the guard-house and wait for an answer.