damned because of one act in her life.
Her horrible cry, morning and night, “I am damned for all eternity!”
would strike horror to my soul. Her agony seemed like a glimpse of
the inferno.
After being transferred to hall 7 I was locked in a room every night
with six crazy women. Two of them seemed never to sleep, but spent
the night in raving. One would get out of her bed and creep around
the room searching for some one she wanted to kill. I could not help
but think how easy it would be for her to attack any of the other
patients confined with her. It did not make the night more
comfortable.
One middle-aged woman, who used to sit always in the corner of the
room, was very strangely affected. She had a piece of newspaper,
and from it she continually read the most wonderful things I ever
heard. I often sat close by her and listened. History and romance fell
equally well from her lips.
I saw but one letter given a patient while I was there. It awakened a
big interest. Every patient seemed thirsty for a word from the world,
and they crowded around the one who had been so fortunate and
asked hundreds of questions.
Visitors make but little interest and a great deal of mirth. Miss Mattie
Morgan, in hall 7, played for the entertainment of some visitors one
day. They were close about her until one whispered that she was a
patient. “Crazy!” they whispered, audibly, as they fell back and left
her alone. She was amused as well as indignant over the episode.
Miss Mattie, assisted by several girls she has trained, makes the
evenings pass very pleasantly in hall 7. They sing and dance. Often
the doctors come up and dance with the patients.
One day when we went down to dinner we heard a weak little cry in
the basement. Every one seemed to notice it, and it was not long
until we knew there was a baby down there. Yes, a baby. Think of it–
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Ten Days in a Mad-House
a little, innocent babe born in such a chamber of horrors! I can
imagine nothing more terrible.
A visitor who came one day brought in her arms her babe. A mother
who had been separated from her five little children asked
permission to hold it. When the visitor wanted to leave, the woman’s
grief was uncontrollable, as she begged to keep the babe which she
imagined was her own. It excited more patients than I had ever seen
excited before at one time.
The only amusement, if so it may be called, given the patients
outside, is a ride once a week, if the weather permits, on the “merry-
go-round.” It is a change, and so they accept it with some show of pleasure.
A scrub-brush factory, a mat factory, and the laundry, are where the
mild patients work. They get no recompense for it, but they get
hungry over it.
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Ten Days in a Mad-House
CHAPTER XVI.
THE LAST GOOD-BYE.
THE day Pauline Moser was brought to the asylum we heard the
most horrible screams, and an Irish girl, only partly dressed, came
staggering like a drunken person up the hall, yelling, “Hurrah! Three
cheers! I have killed the divil! Lucifer, Lucifer, Lucifer,” and so on,
over and over again. Then she would pull a handful of hair out,
while she exultingly cried, “How I deceived the divils. They always
said God made hell, but he didn’t.” Pauline helped the girl to make
the place hideous by singing the most horrible songs. After the Irish
girl had been there an hour or so, Dr. Dent came in, and as he
walked down the hall, Miss Grupe whispered to the demented girl,
“Here is the devil coming, go for him.” Surprised that she would
give a mad woman such instructions, I fully expected to see the
frenzied creature rush at the doctor. Luckily she did not, but
commenced to repeat her refrain of “Oh, Lucifer.” After the doctor
left, Miss Grupe again tried to excite the woman by saying the
pictured minstrel on the wall was the devil, and the poor creature
began to scream, “You divil, I’ll give it to you,” so that two nurses
had to sit on
Abigail Roux
Lydia Adamson
D. W. Jackson
Tom Harper
Mandy M. Roth
Shelley Gray
Faith Price
Ted Nield
Kait Nolan
Margaret Atwood