James the First.—­Soon after that would-be Solomon came to the throne of England, he went one day to hear the causes in Westminster Hall, in order to show his learning and wisdom, of which he had no mean opinion.  Accordingly, being seated on the bench, a cause came on, which the counsel, learned in the law, set forth to such advantage on the part of the plaintiff, that the Royal Judge thought he saw the justice of it so clearly, that he frequently cried out, “The gude man is i’ the richt! the gude man is i’ the richt!  He mun hae it! he mun hae it!” And when the counsel had concluded, he took it as a high affront that the judges of the court should presume to remonstrate to him, that it was the rule to hear the other side before they gave judgment.  Curiosity to know what could be said in so clear a case, rather than any respect to their rules, made him defer his decision; but the defendant’s counsel had scarcely begun to open his cause, when his majesty appeared greatly discomposed, and was so puzzled as they proceeded, that he had no patience to hear them out, but starting up in a passion, cried, “I’ll hear nae mair!  I’ll hear nae mair! ye are a’ knaves aleeke!  Ye gi’ each other the lee (lie), and neither’s i’ the richt!”

Frederick the Great.—­Frederick the Great rang the bell one day, and nobody answered.  He opened the door, and found the page sleeping on a sofa.  About to wake him, he perceived the end of a billet out of his pocket, and had the curiosity to know the contents:  Frederick carefully drew it out, and read it; it was a letter from the mother of the young man, who thanked him for having sent her part of his wages, to assist her in her distress; and it concluded by beseeching God to bless him for his filial goodness.  The king returned softly to his room, took a roller of ducats, and slid them, with the letter, into the page’s pocket; and then returning to his apartment, rung so violently, that the page came running breathlessly to know what had happened.  “You have slept well,” said the king.  The page made an apology, and, in his embarrassment, he happened to put his hand into his pocket, and felt with astonishment the roller.  He drew it out, turned pale, and looking at the king, burst into tears, without being able to speak a word.  “What is the matter?” said the king, “what ails you?” “Ah, sire,” answered the youth, throwing himself at his feet, “somebody would wish to ruin me; I know not how I came by this money in my pocket.”  “My friend,” said Frederick, “God often sends us good in our sleep.  Send this to your mother.  Salute her in my name, and assure her I shall take care of her and of you.”

Frederick, conqueror as he was, sustained a severe defeat at Coslin in the war of 1755.  Some time after, at a review, he jocosely asked a soldier, who had got a deep cut in his cheek, “Friend, at what alehouse did you get that scratch?” “I got it,” said the soldier, “at Coslin, where your majesty paid the reckoning.”