y the cold curiosity of unfeeling strangers. We
have passed on beyond human jurisdiction to the realities we dared to
meet. Give us the pity and courtesy of your silence, O living brother,
who didst escape the wreck!" The appeal is not without effect, and if I
lift the shroud that covers the faces of these dead self-destroyed, it
will be tenderly, pityingly. These simple Sketches of real California
life would be imperfect if this characteristic feature were entirely
omitted; for California was (and is yet) the land of suicides. In a
single year there were one hundred and six in San Francisco alone. The
whole number of suicides in the State would, if the horror of each case
could be even imperfectly imagined, appall even the dryest statistician
of crime. The causes for this prevalence of self-destruction are to be
sought in the peculiar conditions of the country, and the habits of the
people. California, with all its beauty, grandeur, and riches, has been
to the many who have gone thither a land of great expectations, but
small results. This was specially the case in the earlier period of its
history, after the discovery of gold and its settlement by "Americans,"
as we call ourselves, par excellence. Hurled from the topmost height of
extravagant hope to the lowest deep of disappointment, the shock is too
great for reaction; the rope, razor, bullet, or deadly drug, finishes
the tragedy. Materialistic infidelity in California is the avowed belief
of multitudes, and its subtle poison infects the minds and unconsciously
the actions of thousands who recoil from the dark abyss that yawns at
the feet of its adherents with its fascination of horror. Under some
circumstances, suicide becomes logical to a man who has neither hope nor
dread of a hereafter. Sins against the body, and especially the nervous
system, were prevalent; and days of pain, sleepless nights, and weakened
wills, were the precursors of the tragedy that promised change, if not
rest. The devil gets men inside a fiery circle, made by their own sin
and folly, from which there seems to be no escape but by death, and they
will unbar its awful door with their own trembling hands. There is
another door of escape for the worst and most wretched, and it is opened
to the penitent by the hand that was nailed to the rugged cross. These
crises do come, when the next step must be death or life-penitence or
perdition. Do sane men and women ever commit suicide? Yes--and, No.
Yes,