clenched his teeth and bore it:—"Bite on, ye
little wretches," he said: "bite on, and divert
my mind from deeper stings than yours—if you
can."

And they did; a little.

Thus passed the night in mental agony, and
bodily irritation and disgust. At daybreak the
feasters on his flesh retired, and utterly worn
out and exhausted he sank into a deep sleep.

At half-past seven the head keeper and three
more came in, and made him dress before them.
They handcuffed him, and took him down to
breakfast in the noisy ward; set him down on a
little bench by the wall like a naughty boy, and
ordered a dangerous maniac to feed him.

The dangerous maniac obeyed, and went and
sat beside Alfred with a basin of thick gruel and
a great wooden spoon. He shovelled the gruel
down his charge's throat mighty superciliously
from the very first; and presently, falling into
some favourite and absorbing train of thought, he
fixed his eye on vacancy and handed the spoonfuls
over his left shoulder with such rapidity
and recklessness that it was more like sowing
than feeding. Alfred cried out, "Quarter! I
can't eat so fast as that, old fellow."

Something in his tone struck the maniac; he
looked at Alfred full; Alfred looked at him in
return, and smiled kindly but sadly.

"Hallo!" cried the maniac.

"What's up now?" said a keeper fiercely.

"Why this man is sane. As sane as I am."

At this there was a hoarse laugh.

"Saner," persisted the maniac; "for I am a
little queer at times, you know."

"And no mistake, Jemmy. Now what makes
you think he is sane?"

"Looked me full in the face, and smiled at
me."

"Oh, that is your test, is it?"

"Yes it is. You try it on any of those mad
beggars there and see if they can stand it."

"Who invented gunpowder?" said one of the
insulted persons, looking as sly and malicious
as a magpie going to steal.

Jemmy exploded directly: "I did, ye rascal,
ye liar, ye rogue, ye Baconian!" and going
higher, and higher, and higher in this strain,
was very soon handcuffed with Alfred's handcuffs,
and seated on Alfred's bench and tied to
two rings in the wall. On this his martial
ardour went down to zero: "Here is treatment,
sir," said he piteously to Alfred. "I see you
are a gentleman; now look at this. All spite
and jealousy; because I invented that invaluable
substance, which has done so much to prolong
human life and alleviate human misery."

Alfred was now ordered to feed Jemmy;
which he did: so quickly were their parts
inverted.

Directly after breakfast Alfred demanded to
see the proprietor of the asylum.

Answer: Doesn't live here.

The Doctor then.

Oh, he has not come.

This monstrosity irritated Alfred: "Well,
then," said he, "whoever it is that rules this den
of thieves, when those two are out of it."

"I rule in Mr. Baker's absence," said the head
keeper, "and I'll teach you manners, you young
blackguard. Handcuff him."

In five minutes Alfred was handcuffed and
flung into a padded room.

"Stay there till you know how to speak to
your betters" said the head keeper.

Alfred walked up and down grinding his teeth
with rage for five long hours.

Just before dinner Brown came and took him
into a parlour, where Mrs. Archbold was seated
writing. Brown retired. The lady finished
what she was doing, and kept Alfred standing
like a schoolboy going to be lectured. At last
she said, "I have sent for you to give you a
piece of advice: it is to try and make friends
with the attendants."

"Me make friends with the scoundrels! I
thirst for their lives. Oh, madam, I fear I shall
kill somebody here."

"Foolish boy; they are too strong for
you. Your worst enemies could wish nothing
worse for you than that you should provoke
them." In saying these words she was so much
more kind and womanly that Alfred conceived
hopes, and burst out, "Oh, madam, you are
human then: you seem to pity me: pray give
me pen and paper, and let me write to my friends
to get me out of this terrible place; do not
refuse me."

Mrs. Archbold resumed her distant manner
without apparent effort: she said nothing, but
she placed writing materials before him. She
then left the room, and locked him in.

He wrote a few hasty ardent words to Julia,
telling her how he had been entrapped, but not
a word about his sufferings—he was too
generous to give her needless pain—and a line to
Edward, imploring him to come at once with
a lawyer and an honest physician, and liberate
him.

Mrs. Archbold returned soon after, and he
asked her if she would lend him sealing-wax:
"I dare not trust to an envelope in such a place
as this," said he. She lent him sealing-wax.

"But how am I to post it?" said he.

"Easily: there is a box in the house; I will
show you."

She took him and showed him the box: he put
his letters into it, and in the ardour of his gratitude
kissed her hand: she winced a little and
said, "Mind, this is not by my advice; I would
never tell my friends I had been in a madhouse;
oh, never. I would be calm, make friends with
the servants—they are the real masters—and
never let a creature know where I had been."

"Oh, you don't know my Julia," said Alfred;
"she will never desert me, never think the worse
of me because I have been entrapped illegally
into a madhouse."

"Illegally, Mr. Hardie! you deceive yourself;
Mr. Baker told me the order was signed