I made this known, but all the satisfaction I got was to be told that I was mistaken. I soon called for my pants and vest which belonged to that coat, and was told by the attendant on that hall, that I never had such a pair of pants and vest as I described—a fine pair of doeskins, and a satin vest; and he told me if I persisted in it, he would report me to higher authority; he even threatened me. I knew I was right, yet I became afraid of my safety, as this attendant on the fourth hall was an old Irishman who had been a sailor, whose principles were very bad; he was not a man of truth or honesty; so I was obliged to let the matter drop. I once thought of stating the matter to Dr. Gray, but the attendants put on their veto, and I let it rest, but have never doubted but this same old Irishman had my vest, for I am sure I saw him wear it. As to the pants, I never saw them again. I know I am not mistaken about the coat, vest and pants; I got an old coat in its stead which I still keep to show.
Cold weather soon came on, and I was thinly clad. I missed my thick pants, and though I had a good shawl, which I kept my eye upon, yet I had no overcoat. I one day said to the supervisor that I wished I had my overcoats from home; that I had two at home—one new and a very fine one, the other a coarse one, but a good coat for common wear.
A very few days after this my coats both came; I knew them well, by special marks. The best one was taken and put away; the other I was allowed to keep in my room to throw on when we went out in the field. It was not long before I called for my best overcoat, as I was going to walk out. A coat was brought me, but on examination, I found it was not my coat; it was much smaller, cut in a different fashion; was not the same kind of cloth; yet it was a black coat, and had a velvet collar like mine; mine was worth at that time fifty dollars; this was not worth twenty. I have never worn the coat much since. I got me a new one and keep this also to exhibit, to show that I am not mistaken about the clothing.
My hat was also changed for one much poorer; this might have been done by accident. A new black silk cravat was taken, and an old one given me in its stead. Now all these things might have been done through mistake, and not by design, yet, I have never doubted but all was done by design; knowing the attendants, I am obliged to come to this conclusion.
It will be observed that, for the sake of giving a history of my lost clothing, the reader was brought down from the third to the fourth floor; as I had not proceeded through an entire week with my history of that hall, we will now return to that narrative. I had been there about a week when I was permitted to go out in the yard with the patients; and in walking in the yard, I soon became acquainted with men from other halls, with whom I could converse, and I found, on comparison, that those on the third were not as sane as many from other halls; indeed, there were none on that hall that could converse rationally for any length of time; yet I did not desire to change my place by being removed to another floor. After being there about a month, however, the doctor hinted to me that I was to be removed to some other floor. This I somehow dreaded, not knowing where I was to be sent, and not knowing the difference between one hall and another; I begged to stay where I was, choosing the sufferings I then had, to those I knew not of.
After being there about two weeks, I one day said to the attendant, that I wished him to understand that if my plate was always found emptied of its contents, at the close of every meal, it was not because I had eaten it all. I then told him it was very annoying to me to have men snatching my food from my plate every chance they could get, and that I was obliged to guard my plate in order to get enough to eat, and the moment I finished, my plate was immediately swept clean of all it contained. He said I should sit there no longer; so he removed me to the table where he sat, and placed me by his side, and I sat there until removed to another hall.
As I have said, I was on this third hall about six weeks. I have noticed but few incidents connected with this hall, not because I could not, but because I wish to make my narrative as short as possible. Should I record all the thrilling and ludicrous incidents which happened upon this hall, and others during my stay there, they would fill an octavo of a thousand pages. My object is not to give a history of the institution, but simply my own narrative, noticing, perhaps, now and then, a circumstance which may fall in my way concerning other patients; and while I am on this subject, I will simply say, that I made the acquaintance of a number of gentlemen in that institution whose names I remember with pleasure, and should perhaps make mention of them if I thought it would be pleasing to them, but knowing the delicacy of such a subject, I shall forbear making mention of any except those who I know cannot be affected by it.
I was now placed upon the fourth hall, and assigned to a room containing three beds; this was about the first of October. The inmates of this room were more agreeable than on the third floor, though one of them, at times, was very annoying. He would be up and down all night; would disarrange all the clothes of his bed; would scold and worry, and complain of ill treatment, if any one attempted to assist him; until at length he was removed on to some other hall and died there.
From this hall I was suffered to walk out with other patients, guarded by attendants. We would sometimes walk a mile through the back fields attached to the institution. I shall never forget that the first day I entered this hall, I saw, walking the hall, a delicate, well dressed, fine looking gentleman, of middle age and very long beard. There seemed to be an air of aristocracy about him that attracted my attention, and led me to inquire who he was. I found he was from Albany; that his name was Root; they called him Colonel Root. He had done business in Albany; married there into a good family and rich. He lived rather too fast to suit his friends, in traveling through Europe and America, and drinking wine and brandy, so they threw him into the asylum. No one could detect in him any marks of insanity; but the way he would curse his friends for running him into that institution, was a caution. He was not the most gentle and docile patient to manage in the whole institution. Being a private patient, he had what is called his extras in food. He was often changed from one hall to another, until, running down rapidly in health, he died on the sixth hall, long before I left the institution.