find, their own articles as well as those of others. A majority
are disposed to hoard up trifling and useless articles, as scraps
of tin, leather, strings, nails, buttons, etc., and are much
grieved to part with them. One will not eat unless alone, some
never wish to eat, while others are always starving. One with a
few sticks and straws fills his room with officers and soldiers,
ships and sailors, carriages and horses, the management of which
occupies all his time and thoughts. Some have good memory as
regards most things, and singularly defective as to others. One
does not recollect the names of his associates, which he hears
every hour, yet his memory is good in other respects. One says he
is THOMAS PAINE, author of the 'Age of Reason,' a work he has
never read; another calls himself General WASHINGTON; and one old
lady of diminutive size calls herself General SCOTT, and is never
so good-natured as when thus addressed. One is always in court
attending a trial, and wondering and asking when the court is to
rise. Another has to eat up the building, drink dry the canal, and
swallow the Little Falls village, and is continually telling of
the difficulty of the task.'

The superintendent prefers a classification founded upon the faculties of
the mind that appear to be disordered; and he thinks he could place all
his patients in one of the three following classes: _Intellectual
Insanity_, or disorder of the intellect without noticeable disturbance of
the feelings and propensities; _Moral Insanity_ or derangement of the
feelings, affections, and passions, without any remarkable disorder of the
intellect; and _General Insanity_, in which both the intellectual
faculties and the feelings and affections are disordered. The State Asylum
is a fine imposing edifice, delightfully situated near the pleasant
village of Utica, in Oneida county, and is becoming greatly distinguished
for success in the treatment and cure of insanity. . . . WE heard a little
anecdote at a _bal costume_ the other evening, (whether from the dignified
and stately HELEN MACGREGOR or the beautiful MEDORA, we 'cannot well make
out,') which is worth repeating. A retired green-grocer, rejoicing in the
euphonious name of TIBBS, living at Hackney, near London, sorely against
his will, and after warm remonstrance, finally yielded to his wife's
entreaty that he would go in character to a masquerad