wit, he possessed as little as a mule; but to make up for it, he could be as vicious and obstinate as that amiable animal.
The Baron von Gündling, then, lay at full length in the grass, in bis peculiar dress, the chief ornament of it being an immense full-bottomed wig, and in such a position that only the locks of his peruke could be seen as he moved from side to side. A gentleman who arrived rather late for the chase happened to notice it, and taking it for some strange animal, fired point blank at the wig, but very fortunately missed it. His excellency sprung up immediately in the highest indignation, and cried out,
"You vagabond rascal, how dare you?"
The gentleman, however, when he perceived that the strange animal must necessarily belong to the royal suite, did not wait to reply, but ran off at full speed to the neighbouring forest. The baron, however, was not satisfied with this, but, as he saw a man ploughing at a short distance from him, he called out in his arrogant manner,
"Come hither, man!"
The reply he received was,
"I have no time or inclination to do so; but if you'll speak civilly, I may."
His excellency was not accustomed to such an answer; he, therefore, walked toward the impudent ploughman with upraised stick, and was about to apply it to his back, when he noticed that it was the clergyman of the village whom he had seen the preceding evening at the nobleman's château. The baron, therefore, lowered his stick, and contented himself by punishing the clergyman with his tongue.
"How can he be such an impertinent ass. Does he not know who I am?"
"Oh, yes! he's the king's fool."
His excellency trembled with rage, and raised his stick again; but on measuring the sturdy pastor from head to foot, and seeing no help near, he let it fall for the second time, and merely uttered the threat,
"Just wait, my fine fellow. I'll tell the king you pretend to be a pastor, and yet go out ploughing."
The clergyman replied, quite calmly,
"My gracious master will probably remember that Cincinnatus ploughed too, and he was a dictator, while I am only a poor village pastor."
"Yes," the baron said, after inspecting his coarse and peasant-like dress; "but when Cincinnatus ploughed, he did not look like a common peasant."
"I am certain he did not look like a fool," the clergyman replied, as he drove his oxen on.
This was too much for the baron, and he rushed away towards a peasant he saw approaching, vowing vengeance on the impudent pastor, whom he determined to ruin on the first opportunity.
He was very glad, then, to find in the peasant a most determined enemy to the clergyman, who complained bitterly of his sternness, and of the fact of his compelling him to make up a quarrel he had carried on very successfully with his wife for several weeks.
Our fool was clever enough to see that this anecdote would not be of
