Turenne.—­In the year 1675, the Council of Vienna sent Montecuculi to oppose Turenne, as the only officer that was thought to be a match for him.  Both generals were perfect masters of the art of war.  They passed four months in watching each other, and in marches and counter-marches; at length Turenne thought he had got his rival into such a situation as he wanted, near Saltsbach, when, going to choose a place to erect a battery, he was unfortunately struck by a cannon shot, which killed him on the spot.  The same ball having carried away the arm of St. Hilaire, lieutenant-general of the artillery, his son, who was near, could not forbear weeping.  “Weep not for me,” said Hilaire, “but for the brave man who lies there, whose loss to his country nothing can repair.”

Generosity of Turenne.—­The deputies of a great metropolis in Germany, once offered the great Turenne one hundred thousand crowns not to pass with his army through their city.  “Gentlemen,” said he, “I cannot in conscience accept your money, as I had no intention to pass that way.”

TEMPER.

Henderson, the actor, was seldom known to be in a passion.  When at Oxford, he was one day debating with a fellow student, who, not keeping his temper, threw a glass of wine in the actor’s face; upon which Henderson took out his handkerchief, wiped his face, and coolly said, “That, sir, was a digression; now for the argument.”

Peter the Great made a law in 1722, that if any nobleman beat or ill-treat his slaves he should be looked upon as insane, and a guard should be appointed to take care of his person and his estate.  This great monarch once struck his gardener, who being a man of great sensibility, took to his bed, and died in a few days.  Peter, hearing of this, exclaimed, with tears in his eyes, “Alas!  I have civilized my own subjects; I have conquered other nations; yet I have not been able to civilize or conquer myself.”

Fletcher, of Saltown, is well known to have possessed a most irritable temper.  His footman desired to be dismissed.  “Why do you leave me?” said he.  “Because, sir,” to speak the truth, “I cannot bear your temper.”  “To be sure, I am passionate, but my passion is no sooner on than it is off.”  “Yes, sir,” replied the servant, “but then it is no sooner off than it is on.”

A Neat Reply.—­In certain debates in the House of Lords, in 1718, the bills proposed were opposed by Bishop Atterbury, who said, “he had prophesied last winter, that this bill would be attempted in the present session, and he was sorry to find he had proved a true prophet.”  Lord Coningsby, who usually spoke in a passion, rose, and remarked, that “one of the right reverends had set himself forth as a prophet; but for his part, he did not know what prophet to liken him to, unless to that famous prophet Balaam, who was reproved by his own ass.”  The bishop, in reply, with great readiness and temper exposed this rude attack, concluding in these words:  “Since the noble lord hath discovered in our manners such a similitude, I must be content to be compared to the prophet Balaam; but, my lords, I am at a loss how to make out the other part of the parallel.  I am sure that I have been reproved by nobody but his lordship.”  From that day forth, Lord Coningsby was called “Atterbury’s Pad.”