Frederick the Great was passionately fond of playing the flute. One of his teachers for years, was J. Quantz, the famous flutist, who was also well known for his quick, witty answers. One evening after the usual concert, the king was conversing with his intimates, when Quantz made the remark that nothing could upset him, no matter how great the surprise. Frederick turned to him and said, laughing: “Quantz, Quantz, you shall prove that to me,” to which Quantz replied with dignity: “Your Majesty, I am ready for any test.” A few days afterwards, Quantz was to play a solo on his flute, during the evening concert. On going to his desk, he found on his music a large sheet of paper on which was written: “Quantz is an ass! Frederick II.” Not in the least disturbed, Quantz quietly folded the paper and was going to put it into his pocket, when the King who had been watching him, cried: “Here, Quantz, what are you hiding there? Let me see what it is!” “Your Majesty,” replied the former, “some one has been trying to have a poor joke at my expense. It is not worth taking notice of.” “Well,” said Frederick, apparently surprised, “you must read it, Quantz; you ought to let me hear what has been written to you!” Quantz bowed, and unfolding the paper, said: “If your Majesty wishes it, I cannot refuse.” Then, sharply accenting each word, he read aloud: “Johann Quantz is an ass; _Frederick the second_!” Everybody grew pale; some grasped their swords, but the King went smiling up to Quantz, patted him on the shoulder and said: “Well done, Quantz, but another time you must not be quite so rude; do you hear?” A Chronic Cough At all the evening concerts, the King played the flute. Once he played a new composition of his own, which contained a faulty passage. Quantz, on hearing it, coughed significantly. Frederick understood the meaning of it, but said nothing. The next day he asked one of the other musicians his opinion of the passage. The latter pointed out the mistake. The King corrected it at once, saying: “We must not let Quantz get a chronic cough.” No Relation After one of the victorious battles of the seven years’ war, Frederick the Great gave orders that a young cornet, whose bravery he had had occasion to witness himself, be brought to him. “What is your name?” the monarch asked the young man. “Von Stira Stora Stazarneda, your Majesty,” was the answer. “What, sir,” cried the King, indignant at a name so hard to remember, “why, the devil isn’t called that!” “He is no relative of mine, either, your Majesty,” was the impudent cornet’s prompt answer. The King smiled, and said: “I am very glad to hear it, _Lieutenant_ von Stira Stora Stazarneda,” and with a wave of his hand, dismissed him. Plenty of Company