with such gracious humor, could refer to what
was in reality torture deserved to live a century. But an unkind fate
decreed that he should die young. Ten months after his commitment to
the State Hospital he was discharged as improved--but not cured. This
was not an unusual procedure; nor was it in his case apparently an
unwise one, for he seemed fit for freedom. During the first month of
regained liberty, he hanged himself. He left no message of excuse. In
my opinion, none was necessary. For aught any man knows, the memories
of the abuse, torture, and injustice which were so long his portion may
have proved to be the last straw which overbalanced the desire to live.

Patients with less stamina than mine often submitted with meekness; and
none so aroused my sympathy as those whose submission was due to the
consciousness that they had no relatives or friends to support them in
a fight for their rights. On behalf of these, with my usual piece of
smuggled lead pencil, I soon began to indite and submit to the officers
of the institution, letters in which I described the cruel practices
which came under my notice. My reports were perfunctorily accepted and
at once forgotten or ignored. Yet these letters, so far as they related
to overt acts witnessed, were lucid and should have been convincing.
Furthermore, my allegations were frequently corroborated by bruises on
the bodies of the patients. My usual custom was to write an account of
each assault and hand it to the doctor in authority. Frequently I would
submit these reports to the attendants with instructions first to read
and then deliver them to the superintendent or the assistant physician.
The men whose cruelty I thus laid bare read with evident but perverted
pleasure my accounts of assaults, and laughed and joked about my
ineffectual attempts to bring them to book.

XXXIII

I refused to be a martyr. Rebellion was my watchword. The only
difference between the doctor's opinion of me and mine of him was that
he could refuse utterance to his thoughts. Yes--there was another
difference. Mine could be expressed only in words--his in grim acts.

I repeatedly made demands for those privileges to which I knew I was
entitled. When he saw fit to grant them, I gave him perfunctory thanks.
When he refused--as he usually did--I at once poured upon his head the
vials of my wrath. One day I would be on the friendliest terms with the
doctor, the next I would upbraid him for s