718. One day James the Second, in the middle of his courtiers, made use of this assertion: I never knew a modest man make his way at court. To this observation one of the gentlemen present boldly replied: And please your majesty, whose fault is that? The king remained silent. 719. As two Irish soldiers were passing through Chippenham, one of them observing the Borough Arms (which have somewhat the appearance of a hatchment) over the Town-hall door, accosted his comrade with―Arrah, Pat, look up, what is that sign? Botheration, cried Pat, ’tis no sign at all, at all, ’tis only a sign that somebody’s dead that lives there. 720. The Duke of Mantua once observed to the celebrated Perron, that the court-jester was a fellow without either wit or humour. Your grace must pardon me, said Perron; I think he has a great deal of wit to live by a trade that he does not understand. 721. The facetious Mr. Bearcroft, told his friend Mr. Vansittart, Your name is such a long one, I shall drop the sittart, and call you Van, for the future. With all my heart, said he: by the same rule, I shall drop croft, and call you Bear! 722. In a life of St. Francis Navier, written by an Italian monk, it is said, That by one sermon he converted 10,000 persons in a desert island! 723. During the time that martial law was in force in Ireland, and the people were prohibited from having fire-arms in their possession, some mischievous varlets gave information that Mr. Scanlon, a respectable apothecary of Dublin, had three mortars in his house. A magistrate, with a party of dragoons in his train, surrounded the house, and demanded, in the king’s name, that the mortars should be delivered to him. Mr. Scanlon immediately produced them, adding, that as they were useless without the pestles, those also were at his majesty’s service. 724. At the battle of Dettingen, George II., who commanded in person, rode on a very unruly horse, which at one period ran away with him to a very considerable distance, until Ensign Trapand, afterwards General, seized the bridle, when the king dismounted, exclaiming, Now that I am on my legs, I am sure that I shall not run away. At the same battle, the Gens-d’armes, the flower of the French army, made a desperate charge on the British line opposed to them, and were repulsed. In their retreat they were attacked by the Scotch Greys, and forced into the river. Some years after, at a review of the above regiment, his majesty, after applauding their appearance, turned to the French ambassador, and asked him his opinion of the regiment, adding, in his exultant manner, that they were the best troops in the world. The ambassador replied, Has your majesty ever seen the Gens-d’armes? No, rejoined the king, but my Greys have.