Connecticut western news., 1894-04-26
MY SUICIDE.
Yes, I have wished to die.

hnC6 that Am6l16 was IalS6 CO me. Was it indeed Amelie-this perfid- ious coquette? Only think of it. She held my life in her little hand, and am not now even sure of her name. Young men, this may astonish you, but you will learn better in time. I was young then-quite young, and no sooner learned of my misfortune than I determined to end my life. My first intention was to shoot myself on her stairway, but bethought me of the crowds that would see me there and of how Henriette-was not that her name? would ridicule me, so my amour pro- pre- came to my rescue "No," said to myself, "there must be no excitement, no noise. The wound ed bird conceals himself behind tuft of grass. Thus I wish to die--in some corner-isolated, lost, forgotten. In this eleglac frame of mind took the 5:30 train for Melun. It deposited me at dusk, about 100 steps from the Golden Lion-a well kept hotel, with airy rooms, good beds and an excellent table.
 What does monsieur wlsh?' asked a little waitress, whom I have since found to be very pretty. Nothing I was not hungry. went to bed. My sleep was fitful, and every instant I thought I saw Victorine-I believe her name was Victorine-pass by on the arm of my rival. Then struck out with my fist against ho1 tl,c ble top tale.
 Twas much bruised next morning, but what mattered it, since I was so soon to die?
 went in quest of rope. had be- heved formerly that, when one wished to hang oneself, nothing could be easier than to find rope. A sad mistake. In my search I traversed the entire hotel to no purpose. The little waitress the one whom I have since found is so pretty-demanded of me:
 But what does monsieur wish to do with a roper
 At last, with a length of hemp in my pocket, I left the hotel and made my way to spot in the woods where had often been before. I found here, behind an inextricable tangle of foliage, the same inviting retreat where I had once fingered to dream. There could certain ly exist no more appropriate spot for the deed I now contemplated. While walking along I had thought of Berthe - possibly her name was Berthe-and cursed her with all my soul. Then looked at my rope. I meas | frc% c%a1 fc ct, l the sort of rope I wished. It appeared | to be too short and too large around I was vexed. You can scarcely imagine l how an annoyance of this sort may in- | fuence one's ideas. And here was another vexation. Upon | reaching the chosen spot was disagreea- | ply surprised to find it occupied by an- other. A person, with his back turned l to me, was engaged in fastening a rope | to branch above his head-the very branch which I had selected for my own.
 "What are you doing there?'' I de- manded of him. | He faced me suddenly.
 What concern of yours is it?'' he asked
 "You think perhaps that do not di- vine your intention cried.
 And if wish to kill myself that is altogether my affair. 7" ..s- l ''Kill yourself?' looked at him. He seemed to be ap amiable young fellow, with an open countenance, sympathetic eyes and an interesting pallor.
 ''So you wish to kill yourself" And suspecting him to be the victim of an unhappy love affair, I added, About some worthless woman?''
 "Sirp' he cried
 "Poor idioti' thought. "Loyers are all alike-he defends her even yet. /"
 The stranger was silent
 Twill you permit me to give you a bit of advice?" inquired. Leave your rope where it is'-I had noticed that it was better than mine-"go home. You will thank me for this after awhile.
 He shook his head
 T want to die. "
 Don't prepare any poignant regrets for the morrow" continued, with sweet insistence. 1T repeat what have said. After you are buried you will be. moan your precipitancy, and then it will be too late. "
 You say this because you do not know what has happened to me- D
 "But I suspect. 1"
 No, you cannot have even suspi cion. Oh, sir, woman whom adored, for whom"-
 And he told me his story. Incredible coincidencel It was absolutely my own This comparison set me thinking. "Youi silence shows me your approval, 7" sai6 Charles. had just learned his name tC be Charles
 "Not at all, " cried. I did not wisl to appear like a weathercock. "Thert
 is nothing in your history which justi fies you in having recourse to the end o1 rope. 1"
 Charles had begun to interest me
 'Listen, my friend, you are out of you reason. Why should you wish to b,
 treated more kindly than other mel
 whose sweethearts play them false ey
 cry day?'
 "But they are not as grossly deceive, [ as have been" T beg your pardon. 1" 'tNo, no.'' "Oh, yes. "No."
 : T know whereof speak And nov : you are free to make another choice
 much better one. There are plenty c
 them.
 'nsttsr thsn shsf That is not Sossi