birds, as of the thrush, the wren, the pipit lark, otherwise called the

gray cheeper, and the ring ousel, all travellers like himself: so that

at times when the fancy struck him, he made you aware either of a public

thoroughfare filled with the uproar of men, or of a meadow loud with the

voices of beasts--at one time stormy as a multitude, at another fresh

and serene as the dawn. Such gifts, although rare, exist. In the last

century a man called Touzel, who imitated the mingled utterances of men

and animals, and who counterfeited all the cries of beasts, was

attached to the person of Buffon--to serve as a menagerie.

Ursus was sagacious, contradictory, odd, and inclined to the singular

expositions which we term fables. He had the appearance of believing in

them, and this impudence was a part of his humour. He read people's

hands, opened books at random and drew conclusions, told fortunes,

taught that it is perilous to meet a black mare, still more perilous, as

you start for a journey, to hear yourself accosted by one who knows not

whither you are going; and he called himself a dealer in superstitions.

He used to say: "There is one difference between me and the Archbishop

of Canterbury: I avow what I am." Hence it was that the archbishop,

justly indignant, had him one day before him; but Ursus cleverly

disarmed his grace by reciting a sermon he had composed upon Christmas

Day, which the delighted archbishop learnt by heart, and delivered from

the pulpit as his own. In consideration thereof the archbishop pardoned

Ursus.

As a doctor, Ursus wrought cures by some means or other. He made use of

aromatics; he was versed in simples; he made the most of the immense

The Man Who Laughs