When a man is useless to himself and to
others he has a right to determine what he will do about living.
The only thing to be considered is a man's obligation to his fellow-
beings and to himself. I don't take into consideration any
supernatural nonsense. If God wants a man to stay here he ought
to make it more comfortable for him.

_Question_. Since you expounded your justification of suicide,
Colonel, I believe you have had some cases of suicide laid at your
door?

_Answer_. Oh, yes. Every suicide that has happened since that
time has been charged to me. I don't know how the people account
for the suicides before my time. I have not yet heard of my being
charged with the death of Cato, but that may yet come to pass. I
was reading the other day that the rate of suicide in Germany is
increasing. I suppose my article has been translated into German.

_Question_. How about lying, Colonel? Is it ever right to lie?

_Answer_. Of course, sometimes. In war when a man is captured by
the enemy he ought to lie to them to mislead them. What we call
strategy is nothing more than lies. For the accomplishment of a
good end, for instance, the saving of a woman's reputation, it is
many times perfectly right to lie. As a rule, people ought to tell
the truth. If it is right to kill a man to save your own life it
certainly ought to be right to fool him for the same purpose. I
would rather be deceived than killed, wouldn't you?

--_The Inter-Ocean_, Chicago, Illinois, March, 1897.

A VISIT TO SHAW'S GARDEN.

_Question_. I was told that you came to St. Louis on your wedding
trip some thirty years ago and went to Shaw's Garden?

_Answer_. Yes; we were married on the 13th of February, 1862. We
were here in St. Louis, and we did visit Shaw's Garden, and we
thought it perfectly beautiful. Afterward we visited the Kew
Gardens in London, but our remembrance of Shaw's left Kew in the
shade.

Of course, I have been in St. Louis many times, my first visit
being, I think, in 1854. I have always liked the town. I was
acquainted at one time with a great many of your old citizens.
Most of them have died, and I know but few of the present generation.
I used to stop at the old Planter's House, and I was there quite
often during the war. In those days I saw Hackett as Falstaff,
the best Falstaff that ever lived. Ben de Bar was here then, and
the Maddern sisters, and now the daughter of one of the sisters,
Minnie