(2) The continual moving about trying to find a resting place, and consequent disgust and quarrels with relatives, and the feeling that I was indeed alone and without a home. Leaving Cuba in hope I left ----, swearing they would never hear from me again. I left ---- with very much the same idea, but before leaving, wrote a very short letter to Nellie, informing her that I had nothing against her and thought as much of her as ever. Uncle was the last straw, although I could not have the least doubt of his sincere desire to benefit me, and when I realized this I tried to take advantage of his advice and follow it to a great extent, but his wife chilled me, and she really didn’t want me. Of course, she wasn’t well, and uncle told me that but for that he would have had me stay with them, and take a good room in which they had a roomer. Aunt had advised against my coming--she did not want to be bothered. However, all this only added to my feeling of loneliness, of homelessness, and I took a small room, after sundry hints from my aunt. (3) Related to the above, was the deeper feeling that I had not place in the world. Forced to work myself into a nervous wreck, when I wanted to shine in intellect; laughed at by my acquaintances, for I had no friends, because of my theories, impracticality, temperament; inability to get on with people socially, due to a peculiar inherent shyness, not lost by contact with people in business, where I had a reputation even for nerve or perhaps sometimes impertinence, although I meant no harm. I was rather sharp in repartee, and suppose I showed a feeling of superiority, whereas said acquaintances, openly at least, made me feel inferior, unsocial, a crank--always in the wrong. What was the use, I said time and again, of my brilliance, of my love of study, of esthetics, of my careful life, if it was turned on me and made into a fault, a crime. (4) Fearful of gradual approach of insanity, brought on by above causes, and degenerate stock on my father’s side. I have no proof of this, except fact that my father was small, nervous, and vacillating, and I am sure it is only my mother’s blood that has saved me thus far. (5) The thought that my ideas, etc., instead of being due to higher qualities, due to this degenerate tendency or strain, in short, that I was a degenerate weakling, doomed to drift on until insanity or death ended it all. The above caused my resolution to commit suicide, taken on January 10th. My hand is tired now, but I have much to write of subsequent days. I leave to-morrow morning for San Francisco, and shall fill in details to date either on train or there. =Denver, Colo., February 2, 1913.= To continue where I left off, the sixth reason, the last but not the least, to use a hackneyed term, is: (6) Sex. I have previously gone into this at some length, so little remains to be written. To use a medical term, I presume my affliction may be called erotomania.