to pay a small weekly sum. The experience
of this asylum did not differ, I found, from
that of similar establishments, in proving that
insanity is more prevalent among women
than among men. Of the eighteen thousand
seven hundred and fifty-nine inmates, Saint
Luke's Hospital has received in the century
of its existence, eleven thousand one hundred
and sixty-two have been women, and seven
thousand five hundred and eighty-seven, men.
Female servants are, as is well known, more
frequently afflicted with lunacy than any other
class of persons. The table, published in the
Directors' Report, of the condition in life of
the one hundred and seven female inmates
admitted in 1850, sets forth that while, under
the vague description of "wife of labourer"
there were only nine admissions, and under
the equally indefinite term "housekeeper,"
no more than six; there were of women
servants, twenty-four.

I passed into one of the galleries on the male
side. Three men, engaged at a game of
bagatelle; another patient kneeling against the
wall apparently in deep prayer; two, walking
rapidly up and down the long gallery arm-in-arm,
but, as usual, without speaking together;
a handsome young man deriving intense
gratification from the motion of his fingers as he
played with them in the air; two men standing
like pillars before the fire-cage; one man,
with a newspaper under his arm, walking
with great rapidity from one end of the
corridor to the other, as if engaged in some
important mission which admitted of not a
moment's delay. The only furniture in the
common sitting-room not peculiar to a prison
or a lunatic asylum of the old school, was
a newspaper, which was being read by a
demented publican. The same oppressive
silence—except when the publican complained,
in tones of the bitterest satire, against one of
the keepers, or (said the publican) "attendant,
as I suppose I must call him." The same
listless vacuity here, as in the room occupied
by the female patients. Despite the large
amount of cures effected in the hospital,
(upwards of sixty-nine per cent, during the past
year,) testifying to the general efficacy of the
treatment pursued in it, I think that, if the
system of finding the inmates employment, so
successful in other hospitals, were introduced
into Saint Luke's, the proportion of cures
would be much greater. Appended to the
latest report of the charity is a table of the
weights of  the newcomers, compared with
the weights of the same individuals when
discharged. From this, it appears that their
inactivity occasions a rapid accumulation of
flesh. Of thirty patients, whose average
residence in the hospital extended over eleven
weeks, twenty-nine had gained at the average
rate of more than one pound per week, each.
This can hardly be a gain of health.

On the walls of some of the sleeping cells
were the marks of what looked like small
alcoves, that had been removed. These
indicated the places to which the chairs, which
patients were made to sit in for indefinite
periods, were, in the good old times, nailed.
A couple of these chairs have been preserved
in a lumber-room, and are hideous curiosities
indeed. As high as the seat, are boxes to
enclose the legs, which used to be shut in
with spring bolts. The thighs were locked
down by a strong cross-board, which also
served as a table. The back of this cramping
prison is so constructed that the victim could
only use his arms and hands in a forward
direction; not backward or sideways.

Each sleeping cell has two articles of
furniture—a bed and a stool; the latter serving
instead of a wardrobe. Many of the patients
sleep in single-bedded rooms; but the larger
cells are occupied by four inmates. The bedding
is comfortable, and the clothing ample.
On one bed-place the clothes were folded up,
and the bedding had been removed. In its
stead, was a small bundle, made up of a pair
of boots, a waistcoat, and some stockings.
" That poor fellow," said my conductor, "died
last night— in a fit."

As I was looking at the marks in the walls
of the galleries, of the posts to which the
patients were formerly chained, sounds of
music were heard from a distance. The ball
had begun, and we hurried off in the direction
of the music.

It was playing in another gallery—a brown
sombre place, not brilliantly illuminated by a
light at either end, adorned with holly. The
staircase by which this gallery was approached,
was curtained off at the top, and near the
curtain the musicians were cheerfully engaged
in getting all the vivacity that could be got,
out of their two instruments. At one end were
a number of mad men, at the other, a number
of mad women, seated on forms. Two or
three sets of quadrille dancers were arranged
down the centre, and the ball was proceeding
with great spirit, but with great decorum.

There were the patients usually to be found
in all such asylums, among the dancers.
There was the brisk, vain, pippin-faced little
old lady, in a fantastic cap— proud of her
foot and ankle; there was the old-young
woman, with the dishevelled long light hair,
spare figure, and weird gentility; there was
the vacantly-laughing girl, requiring now and
then a warning finger to admonish her; there
was the quiet young woman, almost well, and
soon going out. For partners, there were
the sturdy bull-necked thick-set little fellow
who had tried to get away last week; the
wry-faced tailor, formerly suicidal, but much
improved; the suspicious patient with a
countenance of gloom, wandering round and
round strangers, furtively eyeing them
behind from head to foot, and not indisposed to
resent their intrusion. There was the man of
happy silliness, pleased with everything. But
the only chain that made any clatter was
Ladies' Chain, and there was no straiter
waistcoat in company than the polka-garment