“To the cook at the hospital who removed snakes from my broth, $5000.”
The heirs at law reached the conclusion that too high a value had been put upon these services and temporary friendships, and filed a bill to enjoin the payment of the legacies.
Penchant for Paper-knives
M. Charles Asselineau, a well-known Frenchman, died in 1874. His estate appears to have consisted largely of books and paper-knives. These he disposed of by will in a bequest to a relative. He had as many paper-knives as Clapisson had whistles or Buffon butterflies, and they were all more or less remarkable by reason of the celebrity of the donors, or former owners, and the unique inscriptions they bore. Those who are interested may find amusement, if not recreation, in an attempt to ascertain the point and meaning of some of the phrases.
On one given him by Victor Hugo we read: “Madame, il fait grand vent et j’ai tué six loups.”
On that of Ponsard: “Quand la borne est franchie, il n’y a plus de limites.”
On that of Émile Augier: “Ce qui tombe au fossé, Madame, est au soldat.” And so on.
In this collection are paper-knives that had belonged to Béranger, Bauville, Autran, Camille Doucet, and many other French writers of fame, each carefully enclosed in a case of its own and labelled.
An Odd Lot
There is a well-authenticated case of a wealthy man leaving his riches to deserving old maids, but he let his own daughters pine in single blessedness for want of portions. There was also an individual who desired to set up a lifeboat, compelling his boys to “paddle their own canoe,” and there is yet another testator who, when death approached, bestowed his estate for the planting of a botanical garden, leaving his daughters to fade as wallflowers, and his sons to go to seed in penury; and these testamentary schemes were upheld, notwithstanding the adage that “Charity begins at home.”