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Show Adolph Belot'a Presentiment. Here is a true, strange story of Adolphe Belot, the writer of a shelfful of novels, who died a few days ago. About a fort ; night before his death he called at Den-tu's Den-tu's to settle an agreement for a new story. When the matter had been arranged ar-ranged he sudlenly exclaimed: "I want you to add an it'ier clause to that agree inent." "Wh.tt is that?" "I want you to undertake, when I die, to pay for my funeral." '"But, my dear sir," replied the interlocutor in astonishment, "whatever "what-ever are you thinking about? We could not think of inserting such a clause in an agreement for a new book." "But," objected Belot, walking up and down the room with his hands in his pockets, "it is a very Binall matter for you. I have made inquiries, and find that a funeral such as I want will cost only i'25." "But it is impossible.'' "Very well, then," Belot resumed; "shall we manage it another way? Will you undertake to pay a thousand francs to the person who will present a demand for that sum, in, my name, the day after my death?" The publishers were still astonished, but they undertook to make the payment, the partner with whom the conversation took place saying it hardly mattered, since tho obligation would not fall upon him, but upon his successors. "How do you know'?' said Belot, as he went out; "you may have to pay a good deal sooner , than you expect." And so it happened, j Paris Figaro. |