December 16, 1913: Ambrose Bierce writes to his literary secretary, “I am going to Mexico with a pretty definite purpose which is not at present discloseable. If you hear of my being stood up against a Mexican stone wall and shot to rags, please know that I think that’s a pretty good way to depart this life. It beats old age, disease, or falling down cellar stairs. To be a Gringo in Mexico–ah, that is euthanasia!”
Neither Bierce’s literary secretary nor any of his other acquaintances ever heard from him again after this letter.
https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/663536.The_Devil_s_Dictionary
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