For some years after his accession he still appeared occasionally in "burgher dress," or unmilitary clothes; "brown English coat, yellow waistcoat" and the other indispensables. But this fashion became rarer with him every year; and ceased altogether (say Chronologists) about the year 1719: after which he appeared always simply as Colonel of the Potsdam Guards (his own Lifeguard Regiment) in simple Prussian uniform: close military coat; blue, with red cuffs and collar, buff waistcoat and breeches; white linen gaiters to the knee. He girt his sword about the loins, well out of the mud; walked always with a thick bamboo in his hand; Steady, not slow of step; with his triangular hat, cream-white round wig (in his older days), and face tending to purple,--the eyes looking out mere investigation, sharp swift authority, and dangerous readiness to rebuke and set the cane in motion:--it was so he walked abroad in this earth; and the common run of men rather fled his approach than courted it. For, in fact, he was dangerous; and would ask in an alarming manner, "Who are you?" Any fantastic, much more any suspicious-looking person, might fare the worse. An idle lounger at the street-corner he has been known to hit over the crown; and peremptorily despatch: "Home, Sirrah, and take to some work!" That the Apple-women be encouraged to knit, while waiting for custom;--encouraged and quietly constrained, and at length packed away, and their stalls taken from them, if unconstrainable,--there has, as we observed, an especial rescript been put forth; very curious to read. [In Rodenbeck, _Beitrage,_ p. 15.] Dandiacal figures, nay people looking like Frenchmen, idle flaunting women even,--better for them to be going. "Who are you?" and if you lied or prevaricated (_"Er blicke mich gerade an,_ Look me in the face, then!"), or even stumbled, hesitated, and gave suspicion of prevaricating, it might be worse for you. A soft answer is less effectual than a prompt clear one, to turn away wrath. "A _Candidatus Theoligiae,_ your Majesty," answered a handfast threadbare youth one day, when questioned in this manner.--"Where from?" "Berlin, your Majesty."--"Hm, na, the Berliners are a good-for-nothing set." "Yes, truly, too many of them; but there are exceptions; I know two."--"Two? which then?" "Your Majesty and myself!"--Majesty burst into a laugh: the Candidatus was got examined by the Consistoriums, and Authorities proper in that matter, and put into a chaplaincy.