ecovery, when it is possible, may be conducted with as much
mildness as the absence of reason will admit. We are mild, when we can,
and severe only where we must."

"Shuffling scoundrel!" thought the stranger. "I perceive in this
language the double dealing of an unprincipled villain.--Would you
have any objection, sir," he said, "that I should look through your
establishment?"

"I can conduct you through the convalescent wards," replied the doctor;
"but, as I said, we find that the appearance of strangers--which is
what I meant by the contiguity of reason--is attended with very bad, and
sometimes deplorable consequences. Under all circumstances it retards
a cure, under others occasions a relapse, and in some accelerates the
malady so rapidly that it becomes hopeless. You may see the convalescent
ward, however--that is, if you wish."

"You will oblige me," said the stranger.

"Well, then," said he, "if you will remain here a moment, I will send a
gentleman who will accompany you, and explain the characters of some
of the patients, should you desire it, and also the cause of their
respective maladies."

He then disappeared, and in a few minutes a mild, intelligent,
gentlemanly man, of modest and unassuming manners, presented himself,
and said he would feel much pleasure in showing him the convalescent
side of the house. The stranger, however, went out and brought old
Corbet in from the carriage, where he and the officers had been sitting;
and this he did at Corbet's own request.

It is not our intention to place before our readers any lengthened
description of this gloomy temple of departed reason. Every one who
enters a lunatic asylum for the first time, must feel a wild and
indescribable emotion, such as he has never before experienced, and
which amounts to an extraordinary sense of solemnity and fear. Nor
do the sensations of the stranger rest here. He feels as if he were
surrounded by something sacred as well as melancholy, something
that creates at once pity, reverence, and awe. Indeed, so strongly
antithetical to each other are his first impressions, that a kind of
confusion arises in his mind, and he begins to fear that his senses have
been affected by the atmosphere of the place. That a shock takes place
which slightly disarranges the faculty of thought, and generates strong
but erroneous impressions, is still more clearly established by the fact
that the visitor, for a considerable time after leaving an a