my friends, and that every care would be taken of me; that he
was aware that my paroxysms were only occasional, and that, during the
time I was quiet, I should have every indulgence that could be granted,
and that he hoped that I soon should be perfectly well, and be permitted
to leave the hospital. I replied by stating who I was, and how I had
been taken ill. The doctor shook his head, advised me to lie down as
much as possible, and then quitted me to visit the other patients.

As I afterwards discovered, my uncle had had me confined upon the plea
that I was a young man who was deranged with an idea that his name was
Simple, and that he was the heir to the title and estates; that I was
very troublesome at times, forcing my way into his house and insulting
the servants, but in every other respect was harmless; that my paroxysms
generally ended in a violent fever, and it was more from the fear of my
coming to some harm, than from any ill-will towards the poor young man,
that he wished me to remain in the hospital, and be taken care of. The
reader may at once perceive the art of this communication: I, having no
idea why I was confined, would of course continue to style myself by my
true name; and as long as I did this, so long would I be considered in a
deranged state. The reader must not therefore be surprised when I tell
him that I remained in Bedlam for one year and eight months. The doctor
called upon me for two or three days, and finding me quiet, ordered me
to be allowed books, paper, and ink, to amuse myself; but every attempt
at explanation was certain to be the signal for him to leave my
apartment. I found, therefore, not only by him, but from the keeper, who
paid no attention to anything I said, that I had no chance of being
listened to, or of obtaining my release.

After the first month, the doctor came to me no more: I was a quiet
patient, and he received the report of the keeper. I was sent there with
every necessary document to prove that I was mad; and, although a very
little may establish a case of lunacy, it requires something very strong
indeed to prove that you are in your right senses. In Bedlam I found it
impossible. At the same time I was well treated, was allowed all
necessary comforts, and such amusement as could be obtained from books,
&c. I had no reason to complain of the keeper--except that he was too
much employed to waste his time in listening to what he did not believe.
I wrote several lette