“I don’t think it is best to let you have it. I shan’t trust you with money.”
“Shan’t trust me with money! Why not? Have I ever abused this trust? Do not I always give you an exact account of every cent I spend? And I will this time do so; and besides, if you cannot trust it with me, I will put it into brother’s hands as soon as I get there, and not spend a cent but by his permission.”
“No, I shall not consent to that.”
“One thing more I will suggest. You know Batavia people owe you twelve dollars for preaching one Sabbath, and you can’t get your pay. Now, supposing brother ‘dun’ and get it, may I not use this money if I should chance to need it in an emergency; and if I should not need any, I won’t use a cent of it? Or, I will write home to you and ask permission of you before spending a dollar of it.”
“No. You shall neither have any money, nor have the control of any, for I can’t trust you with any.”
“Well, husband, if I can’t be trusted with ten dollars of my own money under these circumstances, and with all these provisions attached to it, I should not think I was capable of being trusted with two sick children three months away from home wholly dependent on a poor brother’s charities. Indeed, I had rather stay at home and not go at all, rather than go under such circumstances.”
“You shall not go at all;” replied he, in a most excited, angry, tone of voice. “You shall go into an Insane Asylum!”
“Why, husband!” said I; “I did not suspect such an alternative. I had rather go to him penniless, and clotheless even, than go into an Asylum!”
“You have lost your last chance. You shall go into an Asylum!”
And so it proved. It was my last chance. In a few days I was kidnapped and locked up in my Asylum prison for life, so far as he was concerned.