allows himself as much liberty in the use of words as he is
allowed by the dictionary-maker and by popular consent is a bad writer.
He can make no impression on his reader, and would do better service at
the ribbon-counter.

The ethics of suicide is not a simple matter; one can not lay down laws
of universal application, but each case is to be judged, if judged
at all, with a full knowledge of all the circumstances, including
the mental and moral make-up of the person taking his own life--an
impossible qualification for judgment. One's time, race and religion
have much to do with it. Some people, like the ancient Romans and
the modern Japanese, have considered suicide in certain circumstances
honorable and obligatory; among ourselves it is held in disfavor. A man
of sense will not give much attention to considerations of that kind,
excepting in so far as they affect others, but in judging weak offenders
they are to be taken into the account. Speaking generally, then, I
should say that in our time and country the following persons (and some
others) are justified in removing themselves, and that to some of them
it is a duty:

One afflicted with a painful or loathsome and incurable disease.

One who is a heavy burden to his friends, with no prospect of their
relief.

One threatened with permanent insanity.

One irreclaimably addicted to drunkenness or some similarly destructive
or offensive habit.

One without friends, property, employment or hope.

One who has disgraced himself.

Why do we honor the valiant soldier, sailor, fireman? For obedience to
duty? Not at all; that alone--without the peril--seldom elicits remark,
never evokes enthusiasm. It is because he faced without flinching the
risk of that supreme disaster--or what we feel to be such--death. But
look you: the soldier braves the danger of death; the suicide braves
death itself! The leader of the forlorn hope may not be struck. The
sailor who voluntarily goes down with his ship may be picked up or cast
ashore. It is not certain that the wall will topple until the fireman
shall have descended with his precious burden. But the suicide--his
is the foeman that never missed a mark, his the sea that gives nothing
back; the wall that he mounts bears no man's weight And his, at the end
of it all, is the dishonored grave where the wild ass of public opinion

"Stamps o'er his head but can not break his sleep."

End of the Project Gutenberg EBook