I told him my clothes were packed in my trunk; that I had written to my friends that I should be there about that time, and I could see no reason why I should stay longer. I told the steward I must go to the city and get a few things before I started. I did so.
The last supper was now ended that I ever expected to eat in that house, as I was to start at eleven o'clock that evening for the west. At the close of the supper, a call was made for a speech from me before I left. The call was sudden and I was embarrassed, as I had not spoken in public in two years and six months. My own voice was strange to me.
I rose and addressed the company, about forty in number, they all seated at the table, with a few impromptu remarks. I referred to the length of time I had been there; that I had sat just two years in the same place at table, the changes that had taken place, the trials we had passed through, and encouraged them to hope on for their deliverance. I bade them all good-bye, with the best and most kindly feelings of sympathy, I trust, on both sides.
When the hour to depart arrived, the supervisor and house steward accompanied me to the depot, carrying with them a box of the choicest kinds of eatables for my accommodation on my journey. A sleeping-car was engaged, the signal was given to move; I shook my old keepers heartily by the hand, bidding them good-bye with unfeigned good feeling, and shot out of their sight—took my berth, and waked up in the morning in Buffalo.
I continued my journey through Ohio, around the lake to Chicago, and from thence on the great Central to the place of my destination, and found my family and friends in good health. But, oh, the change! To sit down in a private room by the side of a stove, with my own children, once more to eat with them at the table, to retire when I pleased without hearing that old stereotyped sound—“Bed time, gents;” to go out and in as I pleased, furnished grounds for the most profound gratitude to him, who had so mysteriously preserved me without harm through all my dangers and fears, and who had brought me safe to once more see my loved ones, and enjoy their society without fear of interruption.
And now, in the close, I have only to say, that, though it may be humiliating to spread abroad the knowledge that I have been an inmate of a lunatic asylum, yet, if by publishing this sketch, the people in general shall become better informed of the true character of asylum life, and thereby prevent the suffering of some poor, unfortunate victim to mental disease, I shall be amply compensated for all my humiliation.
P.S. Although my history is closed, yet there are a few things of a miscellaneous character, that I ought to notice, to make the narrative complete.
One is, that very much was said about the violation of the rules of the institution; patients were continually admonished not to violate the rules. I was very fearful that I might, by some mistake or oversight, violate the rules; I therefore sought to find out just what these rules were, that I might know the law. In doing this I became perplexed. I could find no code of laws or rules that were fixed, that could be possibly violated. I found a law, or rather a custom that amounted to law, which was fixed and unalterable, and there was no danger of this being violated. This was, that the patients must retire at just such an hour and rise at just such a time in the morning; that they must eat at just such a time, take medicine at just such a time, and no man would dare to violate these rules unless he loved punishment.
As to all other rules, I found them as variable as the circumstances of the patients were various. What one could do with impunity, I found was a violation of the rules by another. I was at first perplexed with this, yet the patients were constantly warned not to violate the rules. All the rules there were was the will and word of the doctor, who made rules and changed them just as he saw fit.