meet. As soon as they were seated at dinner, St. John found that Lady Emily was on the same side of the table as himself, so that it was impossible for him to see her without making a marked endeavour to do so, which even he felt was, at such a party, impossible. His worst forbodings came across him. Was this accident or design? If the latter-but he could not endure the thought sufficiently to dwell on it. St. John was near the door; and, as the ladies passed out, Lady Emily approached him, and, holding out her hand, said, ' How do you do, Mr. St. John ?-I am happy to see you again.' He fixed his eyes full upon her, but her's were cast to the ground, the blood had flushed her cheekand her hand trembled in his; but it did nor return his pressure, and it was gloved. Oh! how beautiful she then looked!-her form was developed her noble countenance was matured-her beauty was dazzling! He had again seen her—he had again touched her his brain almost reeled with the excitation of this consciousness. But still he played the self-tormentor, and racked his heart with all the various fancies which a lover's doubts suggest. He could not but feel that, at the moment, and under the circumstances in which she addressed him, she could not say more than she did; but she might have looked at him she might have shot the glance of an instant, to say, 'I love you still.' St John determined to have his mind set at rest at once, when they joined the ladies: but this was not so easy to do as to determine. When he entered the drawing room, Lady Emily was at the piano, surrounded by a bevy of young ladies, all eager to play or to sing, and all declining it. Lapy Emily seemed to poor Arthur to make more of all this foppery d'usage, than was at all necessary; in a word, as young lady after young lady was asked, and pressed, and entreated, and persuaded to do that which she had a perfect mind to do from the first, St. John thought he should have been driven crazed. But, at last, by dint of watching his opportunity, he found it. Lady Emily went with one of her companions to look over a book of prints. The table on which it lay was a round one, and thus left some little space between its extremity and the wall. And to this Lady Emily was not close, so that, without any appearance of particularity, Arthur was able to come and place himself by her side. He began to converse with her about the prints, which were views of Italy, and of her travels there,-overflowing with impatience at being thus compelled to talk on indifferent subjects, to one with whom his soul burned to commune, till, at last, the young lady, whom Arthur was ing wardly cursing, as Mademoiselle de Trop, was suddenly called away by her mother. He seized the occasion at once for before his companion had time to move, he said to her, in a voice which betokened what an effort had been necessary to force himself to calmness, Emily! and is all forgotten?' She blushed a burning scarlet-she bit her lip, which quivered once or twice, as though she was about to speak; at last, she said, “ Mr. St. John, this is very indiscreet, very wrong; I thought the time which had elapsed since we met had driven the remembrance of our childish days from your mind; I thought-—' 'No, Emily, no; you could not think thus; you must have known, you know, that young though we were, the passion we felt was not childish. You must know that upon that remembrance I lived-that there has not been a thought of my mind, nor a pulsation of my heart, that from the moment we parted, to this hour, has not been wholely and solely devoted to you. You know Stop, Mr. St. John,' said Lady Emily, interrupting him, ، this is language I must not hear; I had hoped, Sir, that the follies of our childhood had been forgotten-follies which nothing but my extreme youth could excuse, and of which it is scarcely generous of you to remind me. As my brother's friend, Mr. St John,' she added, in a milder tone, I must ever feel regard for you—but I must not he thus addressed again.' And she walked away, leaving St. John far too much stunned by what he had heard to be able to strive to detain her. And to what purpose should he? She had crushed his heart at one blow. From that moment St. John has been a miserable man. It is scarcely necessary to trace the progression of Lady Emily's feelings. Absence, change of place, novelty of all kinds, flattery, and a fickle disposition, had, before her return to England, almost entirely erased St. John from her mind. And the few months she had passed in London had more than served to complete it. She had seen the importance of rank, wealth, and fashionable station; her feelings, which, as regarded St. John, had in truth been the offspring only of early romance, acquiring force and an object from juxta-position--her feelings had now completely frozen down (for it is down,) to her position in society-a mere young lady of rank. The real truth is, that she was never worthy of the affection of such a man as Arthur St. John: it was a mistake on his part from the first. The suddenness of his dismissal was fully accounted for in a few weeks afterwards, when the Morning Post announced Lady Emily's marriage with a man whose only merits were being a peer, and possessed of five-andtwenty thousand a year. The effect of the blow on such a mind as St. John's He may be easily conceived. He went abroad for some time, and it was during his residence in Switzerland that he became known to Sir Edward Meynell, entered into orders, and is a most exemplary country clergyman: but he has never thoroughly recovered the effects of the events I have just narrated; for when I first knew him, which was upwards of twenty years afterwards, he was still, and I am convinced he ever will remain—a melancholy man. STANZAS TO OH! wear this simple chain for me, But what can ever join again, The rent links of a broken heart! Recal the hours when Love's warm kiss, Gave transport to our cloud ess youth; The cold world's frown-the proud man's scorn- Had'st thou but loved-had'st thou but smiled. My love has been "too deep for tears," And sighs have told it-'twas confess'd By ruin'd health and blighted years, By fallen hopes and vanish'd restYet wear this simple chain for me. And keep it as a parting token Of one, whose youthful love to thee. Unlike his heart, remain'd unbroken. THE HANWELL LUNATIC ASYLUM. BY HARRIET MARTINEAU. It is commonly agreed that the most deplorable spectacle which society presents, is that of a receptacle for the insane. In pauper asylums we see chains and straitwaistcoats,-three or four half-naked creatures thrust into a chamber filled with straw, to exasperate each other with their clamour and attempts at violence; or else gibbering in idleness, or moping in solitude. In private asylums, where the rich patients are supposed to be well taken care of in proportion to the quantity of money expended on their account, there is much idleness, moping, raving, exasperating infliction, and destitution of sympathy, though the horror is attempted to be veiled by a more decent arrangement of externals. Must these things be? I have lately been hackwards and forwards at the Hanwell Asylum for the reception of the pauper lunatics of the County of Middlesex. On entering the gate I met a patient going to his garden work with his tools in his hands, and passed three others breaking clods with their forks, and keeping near each other for the sake of being sociable. Further on, were three women rolling the grass in company; one of whom,—a merry creature, who clapped her hands at the sight of visitors had been chained to her bed for seven years before she was brought hither, but is likely to give little further trouble, henceforth, than that of finding her enough to do. A very little suffices for the happiness of one on whom seven years of gratuitous misery have been inflicted; a promise from Mrs. Ellis to shake hands with her when she has washed her hands,-a summons to assist in carrying in dinner;-a permission to help to beautify the garden, are enough. Further on, is another in a quieter state of content, always calling to her mind the strawberries and cream Mrs. Ellis set before the inmates on the lawn last year, and persuading herself that the strawberries could not grow, nor the garden get on without her, and fiddle-faddling in the sunshine to her own satisfaction and that of her guardians. This woman had been in a strait-waistcoat for ten years before she was sent to Hanwell. In a shed in this garden, sit three or four patients cutting potatoes for seed, singing and amusing each other; while Thomas, -a mild, contented looking patient, passes by with Mrs. Ellis's clogs, which he stoops to tie on with all possible politeness; finding it much pleasanter, as Dr. Ellis, says, "to wait on a lady than be chained in a cell." In the bake-house, meanwhile, are a company of patients, kneading their dough; and in the washhouse and laundry, many more, equally busy, who would be tearing their clothes to pieces if there was not the mangle to be turned, and a prodigious array of linen in the drying closet to be ironed. A story higher, are coteries of straw-plaiters, and basket-makers, and knitters, among the women,-and saddlers, shoemakers, and tailors among the men. A listless or moping one may be seen here and there; and the greater number can think of nothing but their own concerns; but certain curious arguments and friendly discussions may be perceived going on in corners; kind offices are perpetually exchanged. The worst grievance, for the time, is a good deal of senseless chatter; while here is the actual fact of a large company of lunatics, clean, orderly, sociable, busy, and useful. When the dinner-bell rings, what a cheerful smile runs round! and how briskly they move off to the ward, where their meal await them! feeling, perhaps, what one of them expressed," However little intellect we may have, we all know what the dinner-bell means." There is another place where the greater number of them go, with equal alacrity; to the chapel, where they may be seen, on a Sunday evening, decked out in what they consider their best, and equalling any other congregation whatever in the decorum of their deportment. Where are the chains, and the straw, and the darkness? Where are the howls, and the yells, without which the place cannot be supposed a mad-house? There is not a chain in the house, nor any intention that there ever shall be; and those who might, in a moment, be provoked to howl and yell, are lying quietly in bed, talking to themselves as there is no one else present to talk to. They will probably be soon ready to make a rational promise to be quiet, if they may get up and join their companions. A few, who are not to be trusted with the use of their hands, but who are better in society than alone, are walking about their ward, with their arms gently confined; but, out of five hundred and sixty-six patients, only ten are under even so much restraint as this, Almost the whole are of the same harmless class with the painter in the hall, who hastens to remove his ladder and paint-pot to let us pass, and politely hopes to see all in London very soon; or the self-satisfied knitter, who concludes me to be a foreigner, because I do not know Mrs. A. B——, of C—, who is a great friend of hers, and because I have nothing to do with the Bank of England, Here This institution is for pauper lunatics alone. -thanks to Dr. and Mrs. Ellis-we see at length, an instance of the poor receiving from society as much of their rights as the rich, and more. Here, if Dr. and Mrs. Ellis had their will, we should enjoy the animating spectacle of the most dependant class of society, receiving their due of enlightened aid as well as support. That Dr. and Mrs. Ellis have not their will fully gratified, is owing far less to any fault of individuals, than to circumstances of society hitherto uncontrollable. These circumstances will be, must be, over-ruled, so that the rich shall be raised to an equality of advantage with the poor, in the single instance in which they are at present sunk below their pauper fellow-sufferers. The inferiority of condition of the rich lunatic will not be questioned. It is only in circumstances of subordinate importance that he his more favoured than the most wretched patient in the worst cell of a bad workhouse; and, in all that is essential, his situation is not to be compared with any one of the paupers under Dr. Ellis's care, What matters it how his meal is cooked, and of what delicacies it may be composed, if he must eat it alone, and be reminded that he is not to be trusted with a knife and fork? He would be happier sitting at Dr. Ellis's long tables, enjoying his dump ling with the rest, and plying the knife and fork which answer his purpose, while they are so contrived as to be as harmless as a spoon. What is it to him that his bed is of down, if he cannnot sleep? He might annoy Dr. Ellis's patients in their clean and quiet wards, sleeping through the night, because they have been busy through the day. What is it to him if his chair is of damask, if he is to be strapped down in it because in his restlessness he is destructive? He would be far happier painting Dr. Ellis's hall, or patching a shoe. sole, with hands shaking with eagerness. Of course, it is not meant that the occupations of the rich lunatie should be like those of the poor; but only that the rich should have occupation, and the blessings which accompany it,-free action, variety of scene, and social sympathy. The chance of the rich lunatic for recovery, or for happiness, if he be not recoverable, is undoubtedly much better than that of the pauper, if it be duly improved. Being educated, he takes cognizance of a much wider range of objects; his sympathies are more numerous as well as keener; and the arrangement of external circumstances has much more influence over him. He is infinitely more susceptible of moral influence and of intellectual occupation. Yet it is the ignorant, gin-drinking pauper whom we now see entertained with constant employment, and governed by a look or a sign, while the educated gentleman and accomplished lady are left helpless to be preyed upon by diseased thoughts, and consigned to strait-waistcoats and bonds! This is the barbarity, this is the iniquity, whatever may be done for them besides. Let their secret he ever so carefully kept; let their physicians have their forty or fifty guineas a week, every week of the year, let heaven be wearied with prayers and tears on their behalf, they are each still as oppressed and injured beings as any wretch for whose sake the responsible shall be brought into judgment. There is far more truth and reason in the perpetual complaints of such sufferers. "I ought not to be here,"-" It is a barbarous thing to treat me in this manner,"-" They have no more right to use me in this way than others have to use them so,'-there is far more truth and reason in these complaints than in the excuses of those who inflict the confinement. Where is the right to conclude that because disorder is introduced into one department of the intellect, all the rest is to go to waste? Why, because a man can no longer act as he ought to do, is he not to act at all ? Why, when energy becomes excessive, is it to be left to torment itself, instead of being more carefully directed than before? Why, because common society has become a scene of turmoil and irritation to a diseased mind, is that mind to be secluded from the tranquillization influences of nature, and from such social engagements as do not bring turmoil and irritation? In this case, it is clearly the insane who have the best of the argument; their guardians are in this case the irrational. These guardians will not be justified in their arguments on this head, till their charge is placed in some such public institution as that at Hanwell, where the inmates shall compose a cheerful, busy, orderly society ; where there shall be gardening, fishing, walking, and riding, drawing, music, and every variety of study, with as many kinds of manual occupation as the previous habits of the patients will admit. Till all insane persons are admitted into such public institutions, under the care of official guardians, the almost universal complaint of the lunatic will be justified. He may believe himself made of glass, but he is justified in his complaint. He may speak in the character of the Great Mogul, or of the angel Gabriel, but he is justified in his complaint. Why must such institutions be public, and under the superintendence of official guardians, some will ask: and then they will tell us of private asylums, where gardening and study go on, and which are fitted up with turning lathes, and musical instruments. But the question is not whether any private asylums are so conducted but whether all are. It is not enough that, by a happy accident, two out of four lunatics, (or, more probably) two out of fifty, may belong to families who will not sacrifice them to their selfish desire of secrecy, or to their pecuniary interests, or to their horror of renewed intercourse with one who has been insane; while, by an equally accidental happiness, their physician may be fully qualified to "minister to a mind diseased." It is not enough that two out of four should be thus protected, if the other two are left to the tender mercies of selfish relatives and interested physicians. The other two have a claim to a home, where they cannot be thrust out of sight, because their family are ashamed of their misfortune; where they will be permitted and assisted to recover, instead of being treated in a manner which would upset the strongest brain; where their remaining will be source of gain to their physician; and whence their return to society cannot be impeded by the fears and interests of their relatives. If it be thought malignant to suppose that relatives and physicians are apt to oppress their unfortunate charge, let it be remembered how strong are the temptations. and how feeble the counteraction of circumstances, Let it be remembered that insanity is still considered as more disgraceful than crime, and that it is therefore made the immediate interest of the family of the insane to bury him in oblivion. Let it be remembered that to bring him forth again, and reinstate him in society, is to revive a family stigma, and involves a sacrifice of good things enjoyed in consequence of the sufferer's affliction. Let it be remembered that the physician feels it a thankless office to restore his patient, and knows that his emolutions will cease with the cure of his charge. Let it be remembered how much easier it is to go on in the old and undisputed way, which brings credit and profit, than to begin with anxiety and labour a new method which will cause opposition, censure, and loss. Let it be remembered that the subject in whose behalf this new method is to be undertaken, is singularly helpless, and absolutely defenceless. Let all this be considered, and then who will say that the case of the opulent insane should be left to the chance of the perpetual victory of unsupported moral principle, over a host of ever-active temptations? If any one still doubts, let him compare the proportion of rich lunatics, restored to society, with that of cures of recent cases in the Hanwell Asylvm; let him inquire of conscientious physicians engaged in private asylums, whether they find it easy to dismiss their cured patients, and let him, moreover, ascertain whether there are no instances of a long struggle of disinterested affection, before certain sufferers could be released from the most exasperating bondage, to enjoy the free gifts of Providence, from which they had been for a long course of years iniquitously debarred. There is but one available precaution against iniquities like these; and that is, having the officers of asylums placed above the influence of the families of the patients, rewarded otherwise than in proportion to the hopelessness of the cases under their charge, and made responsible to some disinterested authority. Every The attempts at secrecy in cases of insanity are already generally useless, There is no occasion to waste words in showing that they are selfish and cruel. Every one knows that it is for their own sakes that families consign an afflicted member to forgetfulness. one knows that the chances of recovery are incalculably lessened by the patient being withdrawn from con genial occupation and companionship. The only question is, Whether the secret is any better kept now than it would be if the sufferers were placed under a new kind of guardianship. Now, the family, the physician, the intimate friends, the dependants, the lawyer and other men of business with whom the sufferer is connected, and his companions, if he have any in his retreat, all know his state. If he were placed under official guardianship, his official guardians would also know. This is all the difference. No one dreams of such institutions being laid open to the gaze of curiosity, of their being subject to the visits of any but the friends and legal protectors of the sufferers. It is not only meant that, instead of a jail under an irresponsible jailor, such an institution should be a retired colony under the protection of the law,-an infirmary for a kind of disease which cannot be cured at home, and which experience has shown will not be cured in private hospitals. The case is just this: The disease may be kept secret at home, but it cannot be cured. It may possibly be cured in a private asylum, but cannot be kept secret. It will not be kept secret at an institution under official management; but it will, in all probability, be cured. What, therefore, does duty to society and to the sufferer require? That the attempt at secrecy should be given up, and the cure sought by the most promising means. If proof of this strong probability of cure be desired, let the inquirer go to Hanwell, and see what has been done there. If he wants enlightening as to the philosophy and fact of secrecy about cases of insanity, let him go and hear what is known at Hanwell. Learn what is doing at Hanwell," is an entreaty which may fairly be addressed to every member of civilized society. It is the duty of the great number who are connected with the insane. It is the duty of every one who is interested, first in the diminution, and then in the extirpation of a disease which is known to be rapidly on the increase. It is the duty of all who desire that the fallen should not be trampled on. It is the duty of the rulers who are guardians of the public welfare; and especially of any one who may have official influence over the lot of any of the wretched class of opulent lunatics. If they would but go and see with their own eyes what may be done, there would be a prospect of the staying of this great plague, and of the deliverance of not a few who are now groaning under it. The proportion of cures in a lunatic asylum, must always depend very much on the circumstances under which patients are admitted. In a Quaker asylum, for instance, the proportion of cures is not likely to be great, because Quaker lunacy, being seldom caused by drunkenness or the violence of the passions, usually proceeds from some deeper and more unmanageable cause. The proportion of cured in the Hanwell Asylum must also hitherto be small, because very few of the cases now there were recent. The malady of the greater number was brought on by gin-drinking, and rendered irremidable by a long infliction of chains and idleness. Subjects originally so bad, and then kept in a state of exasperation for years, cannot be expected to yield a good proportion of curables. But, taking the recent cases, (which is the only way of estimating the treatment fairly,) it will be found that Dr. Ellis cures ninety in a hundred. It should be remembered, too, that cases which are commonly called recent, (that is, in which absolute insanity has been manifested for three months or so,) are not what enlightened medical men would call recent. They know how long-how many months or years the evil must have existed, though the patient may have been unconscious of it, or have been driven by fear to conceal it. If, under this disadvantage of concealment, ninety out of a hundred are yet cured, who will say that any kind of insanity is incurable, if its beginnings be but watched ? The These beginnings would be watched if the guardianship of the insane were placed in proper hands. pernicious desire of secrecy being put an end to, proper methods of management would be adopted in an early stage. At present, when the nerves begin to be affected, the patient's first object is to keep his uncomfortable feelings from his friends-a notion which would never have entered his head, if he had not been educated in it. The agonies of his sleepless nights, his dreamy feelings by day, his failure of memory, his unaccountable agitations, are all kept secret, with more and more pain, till his eccentricities can be self-restrained no longer. His horror-stricken family then pursue the same plan. They try to fancy him rational to the last moment, and keep him shut up from everybody but his physician, till he becomes too ill to remain longer at home. Scarcely a beginning is yet made in overcoming a prejudice, and consequent custom, which would all along have appeared absurd enough if applied in any other case. It is difficulty to see why an inflammation of a little portion of the brain should be more disgraceful than an inflammation of the throat; yet how absurd would it have been called, any time within this century, for a man with a quinsey, to have struggled to conceal it, in the hope that it would go away of itself, before any body found it out,-struggling to speak, and swallow as if all was right about his throat, and in perpetual agony lest the unlucky choke, which must come at last, should happen to betray him. There is all possible certainty that inflammation of the brain may be stopped as easily as any other inflammation, if it is attacked in time; and when people have learned to consider it in the same light as any other ailment, (except in as far as the importance of its consequences should induce a greater watchfulness,) they will first train their children, as wise parents do, to give a simple account of any uneasiness that they may feel, and then be ready to put them, with like simplicity, under the management most likely to effect their cure. When those days come, insanity will probably be no more of an evil than the temporary delirium as a fever is now; and those days will be at hand when ever a blameless disease shall cease to be considered a disgrace, and the absurdity of concealment shall be abandoned. That this delusion should be surmounted, will be found the heart's desire of every enlightened and benevolent physician of the insane. If there be any who help to maintain it by humouring the prejudices of the friends of their patients, they expose themselves to a violent suspicion of caring more for their gains than for their science or their duties. The commonest objection to the true method of managing lunatics,-treating them as nearly as possible like rational beings,-is the supposed danger of letting them be at large. What is to be learned at Hanwell about this? It is nearly twenty years since Doctor and Mrs. Ellis began to treat lunatics as much as possible as if they were sane; and in all that time no accident has happened. This was, of course, the point of their management most anxiously pondered by them, when they took the charge of the Wakefield institution, which was conducted by them with high honour and success for many years. The question of confinement or liberty was that on which the whole of their management hung. They decided for liberty; determining that the possible loss of a life, perhaps of their own, would be a less evil than the amount of woe inflicted by the imprisonment of a great number of irritable persons for a long series of years. They threw open their doors, were lavish of air, sunshine, liberty, and amusement to their patients; aud have been rewarded by witnessing the happiness they proposed, without paying the possible penalty. It should be remembered the irritable are exasperated by opposition, and not by freedom. How much of the safety of Dr. Ellis's patients may be owing to the recognition of this principle, and how much to the system of classification to which he has been led by his adoption of phrenological principles, it is for himself to declare; but no one who witnesses the results can doubt the wisdom of his methods. I saw the worst patients in the establishment, and conversed with them and was far more delighted than surprized to see the effect of companionship on these who might be supposed the most likely to irritate each other. Some are always in a better state when their companions are in a worse; and the sight of woe has evidently a softening effect upon them. One poor creature in a paroxysm of misery, could not be passed by; and while I was speak. ing to her as she sat, two of the most violent patients in the ward joined me, and the one wiped away the scalding tears of the bound sufferer, while the other told me how "genteel" an education she had had, and how it grieved them all to see her there. Why should it be supposed that the human heart ceases its yearnings whenever confusion is introduced among the workings of the brain? And what is so likely to restore order, as allowing their natural play to the affections which can never be at rest? For those who cannot visit Hanwell, it may be enough to know that no accident has happened among Dr. Ellis's many hundred patients, during the twenty years he has been their guardian; but there is a far higher satisfaction in witnessing and feeling the evident security which prevails in the establishment, where the inmates are more like whimsical children, manageable by steadiness, than wretched maniacs, controllable only by force. O, do let me out! Do let me go to my dinner!" wailed one in her 66 chamber who had been sent there because she was not "well enough" for society in the morning. The dinner-bell had made her wish herself back again among her companions. "Let me out, and I will be quiet and gentle." "Will you?" was the only answer when her door was thrown open. In an instant she dispersed her tears, composed her face, and walked away like a chidden child. The talk of these paupers often abounds in oaths when they first enter; but the orderly spirit of the society soon banishes them. "I cannot hear those words," Mrs Ellis says. “ I will hear anything that you have to say in a reasonable manner. I am in no hurry. I will sit down and now let me hear." No oaths can follow upon an invitation like this; and the habit of using them is soon broken. An observation of what is passing within the walls at Hanwell may be found to throw much light on what is done in the world; and, on this account, it is to be desired that all who have any share of the welfare of humanity in charge, should visit the place for higher purposes than those of curiosity. They may gain even much more than guidance towards the true principle of treating insanity. Let them inquire the chief cause of all this mental disease among the women who compose the majority of the society, and they will be told, "gin-drinking." Let them next inquire what led to gin-drinking and take the question to heart. Let them mark the direction taken by the sorrow and anger of the murmurers. "How do I do ?" said one, in answer to a gentleman present, who had once incautiously promised to see what could be done for her. "Pretty well, only pretty well. How else should I be, in this place? It is a barbarous thing to keep me here, when you said long ago you would do something to get me to London. You are like all the rest. You are a delusive man." It is as true of these helpless sufferers, as of the proudest among the wise, that not a word of their lips is forgotten before God. Alas, for those against whom the idlest of those words is rising up in judgment! One blessed consequence (among many) must ensue from the Hanwell institution being more visited and becoming better known. There could not but be a speedy abatement of that popular horror at the inmates, which, when they arrive at the stage of convalescence, is an affliction and an injury, from which there benevolent guardians are wholly unable to protect them. Mrs. Ellis's efforts to procure for them a gradual and safe re-admittance into the world have failed, though her wishes were complied with by the committee. She petitioned for a pony chaise, in which the convalescent patients might go backwards and forwards between Brentford and Hanwell, when a messenger went to Brentford on business; and every one must see the advantage to the patients of witnessing a little of the bustle of the world before they were called on to en gage in it for themselves. The pony chaise was granted; but, alas! the people in the neigbourhood were frightened, and the permission to go to Brentford was withdrawn! For the same reason, no patient is now permitted to show himself in the parish church, however well he may be. The trial was made, and the patients conducted themselves well; but it disturbed the devotions of their neighbours that they should be there, thanking God for their relief from the worst of calamities; and at that church they are to be seen no |