telling you what to do with my dead body; therein you will 
also find a composition explaining to you the cause of my 
death, and a brief sketch of my life, including an envelope 
containing three articles, all which you will find to be very 
interesting.” r 
The foregoing words were his last oral expressions, for 
he died two minutes thereafter, died without a mother, 
father, sister, or brother to cry for him. On the other hand, 
that man does not usual cry over death, nevertheless, I felt 
tears in my eyes, whereupon I removed them with my hand- 
kerchief. And, as I looked at Bony’s cold body, I began to 
think how I would miss him, he, the philosopher, the his- 
torian, poet, biographer, and conversationalist; I also thought 
of his virtues, his respectability, honesty, righteousness, love 
for children, and the good things that he had done for the 
poor. 
I finally opened the box to do what I was requested. The 
first thing I did when I opened it, was to read the letter con- 
cerning his dead body. Hence, after having the letter in my 
hand, I read as follows: 
October 10th, 1923, ten o’clock at night, while lying in my 
bed being alone, in this letter, I ask my dear friend, Mr. 
Eugene Patrick Sewell, writing his name in full, to see that 
my body is given to Mr. Ledger, chief surgeon of the Experi- 
ment Institution, so that he may use my dead body for the 
advancement of science. On the other hand, that T have no 
relatives to bequeath anything to, and that I have forty thou- 
sand dollars in money and property, I bequeath said proper- 
ties to the poor girls of this hard, struggling, slave city, 
which should be in the form of one large building, having a 
store of some kind on the first floor in order to keep the 
Poor Girls Institution agoing. Thus, in the name of God, 
I leave this request in your hands. 
Alexander Bonaparte. 
I put this letter into the envelope, pocketed it, took a 
bank book, one hundred and five dollars, and some property 
Papers from the box. Then, taking a large envelope from 
this beautifully decorated box, I opened it, whereupon I 
found a pretty embroidered handkerchief, perfumed, with the 
letter V; the next article was a piece of soft, youthful, black 
hair; the last was a hairpin. Then I took another envelope 
from the box, opened it, found a number of pages written in 
the handwriting of Bony. Among these pages, written in 2 
very clear hand, I found one of the pages to be one written 
especially to me; it read as follows: 
Paty, here is a manuscript that I want you to publish 
for me, a composition relating a brief part of my life, telling 
you the cause of my death, and so on. Perhaps I have bur- 
56 
