time, though you may not care to hear from me, as I have never done anything but trespass on your kindness.  But please do me the justice of thinking that I never expected all this trouble, as I thought Will and I would be in our graves and at peace long before this.  But my plans failed miserably.  Poor Will was not dead, and I was grabbed before I could shoot myself.  I think Will really shot himself, and I feel certain others will think so, too, when the whole story comes out in court.  I can’t understand the surprise and indignation my act seemed to engender, as it was perfectly right and natural that Will and I should die together, and nobody else’s business.  Do you know I believe that poor boy will yet kill himself, for last November when I in my grief and anger told his relations about our marriage he was so frightened, hurt, and angry that he wanted us both; to kill ourselves.  I acquiesced gladly in this proposal to commit suicide, but he backed out in a day or two.  I am glad now that Will is alive, and am glad that I am alive, even with the prospect of years of imprisonment before me, but which I will cheerfully endure for his sake.  And yet for the last ten months his influence has so completely controlled me, both body and soul, that if I have done right he should have the credit for my good deeds, and if I have done wrong he should be blamed for the mischief, as I have not been myself at all, but a part of him, and happy to merge my individuality into his.”

Olmstead was tried privately in July.  No new points were brought out.  He was sentenced to the Criminal Insane Asylum.  Shortly afterward, while still in the prison at Chicago, he wrote to Dr. Talbot:  “As you have been interested in my case from a scientific point of view, there is a little something more I might tell you about myself, but which I have withheld, because I was ashamed to admit certain facts and features of my deplorable weakness.  Among the few sexual perverts I have known I have noticed that all are in the habit of often closing the mouth with the lower lip protruding beyond the upper. [Usually due to arrested development of upper jaw.] I noticed the peculiarity in Mr. Clifford before we became intimate, and I have often caught myself at the trick.  Before that operation my testicles would swell and become sore and hurt me, and have seemed to do so since, just as a man will sometimes complain that his amputated leg hurts him.  Then, too, my breasts would swell, and about the nipples would become hard and sore and red.  Since the operation there has never been a day that I have been free from sharp, shooting pains down the abdomen to the scrotum, being worse at the base of the penis.  Now that my fate is decided, I will say that really my passion for Mr. Clifford is on the wane, but I don’t know whether the improvement is permanent or not.  I have absolutely no passion for other men, and have begun to hope now that I can yet outlive my desire for Clifford, or at