"I wish every smoker in the kingdom to be invited to my funeral in every way possible, by letter, circular and advertisement. Every smoker who takes advantage of the invitation shall receive as a present ten pounds of tobacco, and two pipes on which shall be engraved my name, my crest, and the date of my death. The poor of the neighborhood who accompany my bier shall receive every year on the anniversary of my death a large package of tobacco. I make the condition that all those who assist at my funeral, if they wish to partake of the benefits of my will, must smoke without interruption during the entire ceremony. My body shall be placed in a coffin lined throughout with the wood of my old Havana cigar-boxes. At the foot of the coffin shall be placed a box of French tobacco called _Caporal_ and a package of our old Dutch tobacco. At my side place my favorite pipe and a box of matches, ... for one never knows what may happen. When the bier rests in the vault, all the persons in the funeral procession are requested to cast upon it the ashes of their pipes, as they pass it on their departure from the grounds." The wishes of the testator were fulfilled to the letter. The funeral went off gloriously in dense clouds of smoke. Mr. Van Klaes' cook, Gertrude, to whom was left in a codicil to the will a large sum of money on condition she should overcome her aversion to tobacco, walked in the funeral procession with a cigarette in her mouth. RANDOLPH (John, an able but eccentric American statesman), 1773-1833. "_Write that word 'Remorse;' show it to me._" These words rest upon doubtful authority. RAPHAEL (Sanzio, most illustrious of painters. "The Transfiguration" at Rome, and the "Madonna di San Sisto" at Dresden are accounted his master-pieces), 1483-1520. "_Happy--._' "Once again Raphael revived, and, supported by two friends, arose and looked around with wide-open eyes. 'Whence comes the sunshine?' murmured he. "'Raphael,' cried I, and extended both hands toward him, 'do you recognize me?' "For a moment it seemed as if he had not heard me, then he spoke again, and the holy calm of his expression, in spite of the death-struggle, bore testimony to his words, 'Happy--.' He tried to finish the sentence, but could not. He never uttered another word, but it was full night when a voice broke through the long stillness: 'Raphael is dead!'" _Cardinal Bibbiena in a letter to his niece Maria di Bibbiena._