The modern works offer in a similar manner, and perhaps, on the whole, to a greater extent, authentic examples of local occurrences. There is the celebrated adventure of Sir Thomas More with the lunatic on the flat roof of his house at Chelsea, which runs somewhat parallel to one which the Duke of Wellington had with a crazy fellow at Apsley House:-- “When Sir Thomas More was one day on the flat-leaded roof of his house at Chelsea, a lunatic succeeded somehow in getting to him, and tried to throw him down, crying, ‘Leap, Tom, leap!’ The Chancellor was in his dressing-gown, and, besides, was too old a man to have any chance against the madman. Sir Thomas had a little dog with him. ‘Let’s throw him down first,’ said he, ‘and see what good fun that will be’; so the fellow took up the animal, and threw him down. ‘Now,’ said More, ‘run and fetch him back, and let us try again, for I think it is good sport.’ The madman went, and as soon as he had disappeared, More rose and secured the door.” As representatives of the same class, belonging to different periods, the subjoined must serve:-- “A gentleman, who possessed a small estate in Gloucestershire, was allured to town by the promises of the Duke of Newcastle, who, for many months, kept him in constant attendance, until, the poor man’s patience being quite exhausted, he one morning called upon his patron, and told him that he had at length got a place. The Duke very cordially shook him by the hand, and congratulated him on his good fortune, telling him that in a few days a good thing would have been in his gift; ‘but pray, sir,’ added he, ‘where is your place?’ ‘In the Gloucester coach,’ replied he: ‘I secured it last night.’” “Pennant, the antiquary, had an unaccountable antipathy to wigs. Dining at Chester with an officer who wore this covering for the head, when they had drunk pretty freely, after many wistful looks, Pennant started up, seized the caxon, and threw it into the fire. The wig was in a moment in flames, and so was the officer, who immediately drew his sword. Downstairs flies Pennant, and the officer after him, through all the streets of Chester; but the former escaped through superior local knowledge.” “A quack-doctor, haranguing the populace at Hammersmith, said, ‘To this village I owe my birth and education; I dearly love it and its inhabitants, and will cheerfully give a present of a crown to every one who will accept it.’ The audience received this notice with infinite satisfaction. ‘Here, ladies and gentlemen,’ added he, putting his hand into a bag, and taking out a parcel of packets, ‘these inestimable medicines I usually sell for five and sixpence each, but in favour, of this, my native village, I will take sixpence apiece.’”