One of the finest actions of a soldier of which history makes mention, is related in the history of the Marechal de Luxemburg.  The marechal, then Count de Boutteville, served in the army of Flanders in 1675, under the command of the Prince of Conde.  He perceived in a march some soldiers that were separated from the main body, and he sent one of his aides-de-camp to bring them back to their colours.  All obeyed, except one, who continued his road.  The count, highly offended at such disobedience, threatened to strike him with his stick.  “That you may do,” said the soldier, with great coolness, “but you will repent of it.”  Irritated by this answer, Boutteville struck him, and forced him to rejoin his corps.  Fifteen days after, the army besieged Furnes; and Boutteville commanded the colonel of a regiment to find a man steady and intrepid for a coup-de-main, which he wanted, promising a hundred pistoles as a reward.  The soldier in question, who had the character of being the bravest man in the regiment, presented himself, and taking thirty of his comrades, of whom he had the choice, he executed his commission, which was of the most hazardous nature, with a courage and success beyond all praise.  On his return, Boutteville, after having praised him highly, counted out the hundred pistoles he had promised.  The soldier immediately distributed them to his comrades, saying, that he had no occasion for money; and requested that if what he had done merited any recompense, he might be made an officer.  Then addressing himself to the count, he asked if he recognised him? and on Boutteville replying in the negative, “Well,” said he, “I am the soldier whom you struck on our march fifteen days ago.  Was I not right when I said that you would repent of it?” The Count de Boutteville, filled with admiration, and affected almost to tears, embraced the soldier, created him an officer on the spot, and soon made him one of his aides-de-camp.

MUSICIANS.

Handel had such a remarkable irritation of nerves, that he could not bear to hear the tuning of instruments, and therefore at a performance this was always done before he arrived.  A musical wag, who knew how to extract some mirth from Handel’s irascibility of temper, stole into the orchestra, on a night when the Prince of Wales was to be present, and untuned all the instruments.  As soon as the prince arrived, Handel gave the signal for beginning, con spirito; but such was the horrible discord, that the enraged musician started up from his seat, and having overturned a double bass, which stood in his way, he seized a kettle-drum, which he threw with such violence at the leader of the band, that he lost his full-bottomed wig in the effort.  Without waiting to replace it, he advanced bare-headed to the front of the orchestra, breathing vengeance, but so much choked with passion, that utterance was denied him.  In this ridiculous attitude he stood staring and stamping for some moments, amidst a convulsion of laughter; nor could he be prevailed upon to resume his seat, until the prince went in person, and with much difficulty appeased his wrath.