LAW, AND DIFFERENT MODES PRACTICED IN SENDING PATIENTS TO LUNATIC ASYLUMS.
I learned from ex-Judge Robertson and others the law to send a patient to a lunatic asylum. Two physicians examine the patient, pronounce him or her insane, by oath; the county judge being notified to this effect, issues an order and the patient is sent to the smut mill of hell or to a lunatic asylum.
It must not be understood that the same mode of operation is practiced in all cases. Some patients are supported in the Troy institution solely by the county; while others by the patient himself or herself, for instance, as General Schuyler, whose guardian paid $10 per week for his board, he died in an adjoining room to me, fared no better than Bacon and others (property sold since for $20,000).
I entered the Brattleborough institution as a private; it was not necessary to consult doctors, judges or jurors; I was a husband; Brother B. gave bonds for security; I heard him call for them, and saw the doctor hand them to him before we left; suppose it to have been a wife or a child, it would have been all the same. When Brother B. came for me to go home from the Troy Asylum, October 13, 1870, we met Steward Harrison. I asked him for my trunk and clothing, but have not as yet obtained it. I shall ask once more. Oh! how much I needed my overcoat in the cold fall and winter after I got home, going to and from my shop; I well remember what my wife and daughter said after cordially greeting me, "We don't expect you to do any thing;" thought I, "these feeble women can't support me and themselves with the needle," and I, joking, said to encourage them, "You will see me coming up this hill, with a half barrel of flour on my back" (at the time a pail of water was all I could carry up stairs); sure enough, before January, I surprised my family by sending up the hill a barrel of flour and 160 pounds of pork, besides many other necessaries; these I earned working upon my knees part of the time, and they did not set us back, but came good when I lay sick in January and February, 1872, nigh unto death with inflammation of the lungs; but thanks be to the great Giver, in that sickness I had a beloved wife to smooth my pillow, and an affectionate daughter to administer the necessary cordials.
My daughter writes as follows, before I left the asylum:
Pittstown, September 23, 1870.
My Dear Father,—I received your letter, and was pleased to hear you are better. I will write you a few lines to let you know what we intend to do about having you come home. We are intending to have you come home when Dr. Lomax says you are well enough and can, and when you come home we will try to make home as pleasant as we can, so try to keep up good courage. Please write if you feel able.
This from your affectionate daughter,
MARTHA A. SWAN.