Some immensely
rich old gentleman or lady, surrounded by needy relatives, makes,
upon a low average, a will a-week. The old gentleman or lady,
never very remarkable in the best of times for good temper, is full
of aches and pains from head to foot; full of fancies and caprices;
full of spleen, distrust, suspicion, and dislike. To cancel old
wills, and invent new ones, is at last the sole business of such a
testator's existence; and relations and friends (some of whom have
been bred up distinctly to inherit a large share of the property,
and have been, from their cradles, specially disqualified from
devoting themselves to any useful pursuit, on that account) are so
often and so unexpectedly and summarily cut off, and reinstated,
and cut off again, that the whole family, down to the remotest
cousin, is kept in a perpetual fever. At length it becomes plain
that the old lady or gentleman has not long to live; and the
plainer this becomes, the more clearly the old lady or gentleman
perceives that everybody is in a conspiracy against their poor old
dying relative; wherefore the old lady or gentleman makes another
last will - positively the last this time - conceals the same in a
china teapot, and expires next day.
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