dened you with work already; nevertheless, this being my last 
wish, a literary one, it may interest you, as well as the read- 
ing world. Hence, may God give you strength to grant this 
last favor. 
Alexander Bonaparte. 
Dear reader, let us now read this manuscript that I have 
been requested to publish, which follows: 
I, Alexander Bonaparte, was born March 10th, 1898, in 
the city of Chicago, Cook County, State of Illinois, United 
States of America, being the offspring of Mr. Almula_ Bona- 
arte and Miss Mary Savoir, both parents being French. 
ence, my childhood was happily spent; for, that I have 
always been a great worker, that 1 have always taken a 
ae interest in various departments of nature, my childhood 
s been one of joyous work, study, games of education, 
and youthful dreams of future greatness. This ambition of 
greatness has always been to do something good for the 
poor in honest; I say poor in honest, because I realize that 
there are many poor persons who are not good, honest just, 
and would like to be a tyrant, an evil king, a queen of uni- 
versal hate and jealousy. 
I could just write volumes about my childhood; but, that 
I must be short, of my hastening to my manhood, whereupon 
I shall particularly write about young women with whom 
have been attached. I now proceed with the first, her name 
being Ruby, she, a little queen, a goddess, a pearl of my 
heart—my first love. This is the girl, dear reader, whose 
everlasting image shall live in my mind, the deepest corner 
of my soul, where, having an eternal fire of love burnin 
there, she will always be passionate, loving, adored, an 
never forgotten. Be that as it may, she went away from 
me, left me in this big city, a city which, at the time of her 
departure, seemed to be a desert, empty space, having no 
erson for its inhabitant but me, I, Alexander Bonaparte, 4 
gre ¢ creature of dead solitude. 
h, but some one, another girl, took her place when she 
left me, she whose name, also, I can not and will not forget— 
Victoria—my God, but what a pretty, entrancing, attractive, 
affectionate angel she was! Her tender hands, soft voice of 
sweetness, beautiful black eyes, coal black hair that was like 
silk; her magnificent gesticulations, graceful walk, golden laugh 
—my God, she was a real angel of supreme fascination! But 
she, too, like Ruby, my first rose of youth, went away from 
me, leaving me in the same city, Chicago, the name which 
is known y the entire world. 
Others? Yes, a few, their names being Florence, Pasa- 
line, and Polisky. These too, like the rest, have left me, 
gone from me, perhaps never to return. Nevertheless, I can 
57 
