The Superintendent showed some of his old tendencies, as he went round with us.
“Do you know”—he broke out all at once—“why they don’t take steppes in Tartary for establishing Insane Hospitals?”
We both confessed ignorance.
“Because there are nomad people to be found there,” he said, with a dignified smile.
He proceeded to introduce us to different Inmates. The first was a middle-aged, scholarly man, who was seated at a table with a Webster’s Dictionary and a sheet of paper before him.
“Well, what luck to-day, Mr. Mowzer?” said the Superintendent.
“Three or four only,” said Mr. Mowzer. “Will you hear ’em now—now I’m here?”
We all nodded.
“Don’t you see Webster ers in the words center and theater?
“If he spells leather lether, and feather fether, isn’t there danger that he’ll give us a bad spell of weather?