, took great pleasure in
disconcerting the different companies who came to compliment him. The
Abbe Boileau, brother of the poet, was commissioned to make a speech to
the Prince at the head of the chapter. Conde wishing to disconcert the
orator, advanced his head and large nose towards the Abbe, as if with
the intention of hearing him more distinctly, but in reality to make him
blunder if possible. The Abbe, who perceived his design, pretended to be
greatly embarrassed, and thus began his speech: "My lord, your highness
ought not to be surprised to see me tremble, when I appear before you at
the head of a company of ecclesiastics; were I at the head of an army of
thirty thousand men, I should tremble much more." The Prince was so
charmed with this sally that he embraced the orator without suffering
him to proceed. He asked his name; and when he found that he was brother
to M. Despreaux, he redoubled his attentions, and invited him to dinner.

The Prince on another occasion thought himself offended by the Abbe de
Voisenon; Voisenon, hearing of this, went to Court to exculpate himself.
As soon as the Prince saw him he turned away from him. "Thank God!" said
Voisenon, "I have been misinformed, sir; your highness does not treat me
as if I were an enemy." "How do you see that, M. Abbe?" said his
highness coldly over his shoulder. "Because, sir," answered the Abbe,
"your highness never turns your back upon an enemy." "My dear Abbe,"
exclaimed the Prince and Field-Marshal, turning round and taking him by
the hand, "it is quite impossible for any man to be angry with you."

A CLASSICAL ASS
[Sidenote: _Percy Anecdotes_]

The ass, though the dullest of all unlaughing animals, is reported to
have once accomplished a great feat in the way of exciting laughter.
Marcus Crassus, the grandfather of the hero of that name, who fell in
the Parthian War, was a person of such immovable gravity of countenance
that, in the whole course of his life, he was never known to laugh but
once, and hence was surnamed Agelastus. Not all that the wittiest men of
his time could say, nor aught that comedy or farce could produce on the
stage, was ever known to call up more than a smile on his iron-bound
countenance. Happening one day, however, to stray into the fields, he
espied an ass browsing on thistles; and in this there appears to have
been something so eminently ridiculous in those days that the man who
never laughed before could not help laughin