Such were his faithful accounts, with which he would still have continued to annoy the company, had not one of his countrymen, more enlightened, frankly acknowledged the natural propensity which leads the inhabitants of Gascony to revel in imaginary scenes, resolved to awe him into silence, and thus addressed him:  “All your exploits are mere commonplace, in comparison to those which I have achieved; and I will relate a single one that surpasses all yours.”

The babbler opened his ears, no doubt secretly intending to appropriate this story to himself in future time, when none of the hearers should be present, and modestly owned, that all those he had mentioned were mere children’s tricks, performed without any exertion, but that he had some in store which might shine unobscured by the side of the most brilliant deeds of ancient ages.

“One evening,” said the other, “as I was returning to town from the country, I had to pass through a narrow lane, well known for being infested with highwaymen.  My horse was in good order, my pistols loaded, and my broadsword hung at my side; I entered the lane without any apprehension.  Scarcely had I reached the middle when a loud shout behind me made me turn my head, and I saw a man with a short gun running fast towards me.  I was going to face him with my horse, when two men with large cudgels in their hands, rushing from the hedge, seized the reins, and threatened me with instant death.  Undaunted, I took my two pistols; but, before I had time to fire, one was knocked out of my hand, the other went off, and one of the robbers fell.  I then drew my sword, and, though bruised by the blows I had received, struck with all my might, and split the head of the other in two.  Freed from my danger on their side, I attempted a second time to turn my horse.”  Here he paused a while; and our babbler, longing to know the end of this adventure, exclaimed, “And the third!” “Oh, the third!” answered the other; “he shot me dead.”

ABSENT MAN
[Sidenote:  Percy Anecdotes]

A celebrated living poet, occasionally a little absent in mind, was invited by a friend, whom he met in the street, to dine with him the next Sunday at a country lodging, which he had taken for the summer months.  The address was, “near the Green Man at Dulwich”; which, not to put his inviter to the trouble of pencilling down, the absent man promised faithfully to remember.  But when Sunday came, he, fully late enough, made his way to Greenwich, and began inquiring for the sign of the Dull Man!  No such sign was to be found; and, after losing an hour, a person guessed that though there was no Dull Man at Greenwich, there was a Green Man at Dulwich, which the absent man might possibly mean!  This remark connected the broken chain, and the poet was under the necessity of taking his chop by himself.

PRIDE
[Sidenote:  Percy Anecdotes]