advice of friends, he went into hospital, and in the middle of February, 1894, his testicles were removed.  No report from the hospital is to hand.  The effect of removing the testicles was far from beneficial, and he began to suffer from hysterical melancholia.  A little later he went into hospital again.  On March 19th he wrote to Dr. Talbot from the Mercy Hospital, Chicago:  “I returned to Chicago last Wednesday night, but felt so miserable I concluded to enter a hospital again, and so came to Mercy, which is very good as hospitals go.  But I might as well go to Hades as far as any hope of my getting well is concerned.  I am utterly incorrigible, utterly incurable, and utterly impossible.  At home I thought for a time that I was cured, but I was mistaken, and after seeing Clifford last Thursday I have grown worse than ever so far as my passion for him is concerned.  Heaven, only knows how hard I have tried to make a decent creature out of myself, but my vileness is uncontrollable, and I might as well give up and die.  I wonder if the doctors knew that after emasculation it was possible for a man to have erections, commit masturbation, and have the same passion as before.  I am ashamed of myself; I hate myself; but I can’t help it.  I have friends among nice people, play the piano, love music, books, and everything that is beautiful and elevating; yet they can’t elevate me, because this load of inborn vileness drags me down and prevents my perfect enjoyment of anything.  Doctors are the only ones who understand and know my helplessness before this monster.  I think and work till my brain whirls, and I can scarce refrain from crying out my troubles.”  This letter was written a few days before the crime was committed.

When conveyed to the police station Olmstead completely broke down and wept bitterly, crying:  “Oh!  Will, Will, come to me!  Why don’t you kill me and let me go to him!” (At this time he supposed he had killed Clifford.) A letter was found on him, as follows:  “Mercy, March 27th.  To Him Who Cares to Read:  Fearing that my motives in killing Clifford and myself may be misunderstood, I write this to explain the cause of this homicide and suicide.  Last summer Clifford and I began a friendship which developed into love.”  He then recited the details of the friendship, and continued:  “After playing a Liszt rhapsody for Clifford over and over, he said that when our time to die came he hoped we would die together, listening to such glorious music as that.  Our time has now come to die, but death will not be accompanied by music.  Clifford’s love has, alas! turned to deadly hatred.  For some reason Clifford suddenly ended our relations and friendship.”  In his cell he behaved in a wildly excited manner, and made several attempts at suicide; so that he had to be closely watched.  A few weeks later he wrote to Dr. Talbot:  “Cook County Gaol, April 23.  I feel as though I had neglected you in not writing you in all this