When the man of forty crowns saw himself the father of a son, he began to think himself a man of some weight in the state; he hoped to furnish, at least, ten subjects to the king, who should all prove useful. He made the best baskets in the world, and his wife was an excellent sempstress. She was born in the neighborhood of a rich abbey of a hundred thousand livres a year. Her husband asked me, one day, why those gentlemen, who were so few in number, had swallowed so many of the forty crown lots? “Are they more useful to their country than I am?”—“No, dear neighbor.”—“Do they, like me, contribute at least to the population of it?”—“No, not to appearance, at least.”—“Do they cultivate the land? Do they defend the state when it is attacked?”—“No, they pray to God for us.”—“Well, then, I will pray to God for them, and let us go snacks.”—The Man of Forty Crowns.