ke bombshells. Now, fearing that when
thinking of something else, during the first night, she might give the
reins to her eccentricities, she stated the case to her mother, whose
assistance she invoked. That good lady informed her that this faculty
of engineering wind was inherent in the family; that in her time she
had been greatly embarrassed by it, but only in the earlier period of
her life. God had been kind to her, and since the age of seven, she
had evaporated nothing except on the last occasion when she had
bestowed upon her dead husband a farewell blow. 'But,' said she to her
daughter, 'I have ever a sure specific, left to me by my mother, which
brings these surplus explosions to nothing, and exhales them
noiselessly. By this means these sighs become odourless, and scandal
is avoided.'

"The girl, much pleased, learned how to sail close to the wind,
thanked her mother, and danced away merrily, storing up her flatulence
like an organ-blower waiting for the first note of mass. Entering the
nuptial chamber, she determined to expel it when getting into bed, but
the fantastic element was beyond control. The husband came; I leave
you to imagine how love's conflict sped. In the middle of the night,
the bride arose under a false pretext, and quickly returned again; but
when climbing into her place, the pent up force went off with such a
loud discharge, that you would have thought with me that the curtains
were split.

"'Ha! I've missed my aim!' said she.

"''Sdeath, my dear!' I replied, 'then spare your powder. You would
earn a good living in the army with that artillery.'

"It was my wife."

"Ha! ha! ha!" went the clerks.

And they roared with laughter, holding their sides and complimenting
their host.

"Did you ever hear a better story, Viscount?"

"Ah, what a story!"

"That is a story!"

"A master story!"

"The king of stories!"

"Ha, ha! It beats all the other stories hollow. After that I say there
are no stories like the stories of our host."

"By the faith of a Christian, I never heard a better story in my
life."

"Why, I can hear the report."

"I should like to kiss the orchestra."

"Ah! gentlemen," said the Burgundian, gravely, "we cannot leave
without seeing the hostess, and if we do not ask to kiss this famous
wind-instrument, it is a out of respect for so good a story-teller."

Thereupon they all exalted the host, his story, and his wife's trumpet
so well that the old fellow, believin