The Washington times., 1922-09-03

A FLUTTER of skirts, flash of some
~ thing over the rail of the Jersey
City ferryboat Syracuse the other
day, plunge into the water of New York
IIarbor and Cora Meredith, motion pic
ture actress, thought she was on her way
to the Next World.
But the screams of the passengers
reached the ears of the captain in the
pilot house and the quick work of the
crew of the ferryboat upset the actress
plan to pass on to the Next World, that
day.
Fifteen minutes later, the unconscious
form of Cora Meredith was on its way to
the North Hudson Hospital, New Jersey,
and the hospital surgeons a little later
suspended their labors as the young
woman regained consciousness and opened
her eyes.
Most attempts at suicide are the result
of temporary emotions. A plunge in the
river, sinking into Inconsistencies and
an awakening back to life again is usually
a cure, and the desire to penetrate the
mysteries of the Spirit World has passed.
The ferryboat and the skillful doctors
at the hospital interfered with her first
efforts. But Miss Cora Meredith has not
been cured of her intention to kill her
self. And, incidentally, Cora learned that
suicide by drowning is not pleasant way
to pass off.
Miss Meredith is about twenty-five
years old. Her hair is bobbed, as con-
cession to the whims of the world she is
thoroughly weary of; her voice is lstless;
she has no enthusiasm; no ambition. Cora
has been in love.
Miss Meredith feels sure that there is
nothing left that is worth while in this
world. Possibly the Next World may be
better. She is determined to kill herself
and is now considering what method will
be the least disagreeable and the most
certain, so that the next time nothing will
interfere with her journey to the Great
Beyond.
'I used to be ambitious" said Miss
Meredith, listlessly, to the writer as she
discussed her intention to end it all at the
next convenient occasion, while she re-
clined alphabetically on the divan in her
home on West Fifty-sixth street, New
York. "But then fell in love. loved
him, every way. He was family and
friends and zest of life and light of the
morning to me; he was just all things
that go to make up decent world and
decent life for a woman. All-all-cen-
tired in him. But did he love me? He
said so, but no. He did not. My utter
most agony meant little or less to him.
knew at length that life without him
coming and going through my days
would be no life at all, would be Just liv-
ing. l thought of him, and the impossi-
bilties of him. Then l decided to slough
off the huge aches of my existence. sat
down to study death with all the brains
have. | studied hard; / thought | had
learned my lesson how to die. suffered
-dreadfully-trying to die. And then
I wakened to find that all my pains had
been for nothing.
"When finally decided that life, with
out him, was not worth struggling for"
said she, 81 just sat down and added up
everything, as if l were a merchant, per-
haps, taking account of what l had left
on the shelves of my store. Life stared
out at me, with WEAKNESS. l thought of
the maddening harness of life.
"Did you ever stop to consider all the
stupid routine things we have to be bur-
dened with before we can live at all? We
have to put on our clothes each day; If
we live any kind of life at all we've got to
change them several times. We have to
pin pins and hook hooks and tie loose
ends and adjust our hat at the angle that
goes bestswith our looks. We have to do