Each ward in this institution is shaped like a long gallery or
hall, with the dormitories of the patients opening from it on
either hand. Here they work, read, play at skittles, and other
games; and when the weather does not admit of their taking exercise
out of doors, pass the day together. In one of these rooms,
seated, calmly, and quite as a matter of course, among a throng of
mad-women, black and white, were the physician's wife and another
lady, with a couple of children. These ladies were graceful and
handsome; and it was not difficult to perceive at a glance that
even their presence there, had a highly beneficial influence on the
patients who were grouped about them.
Leaning her head against the chimney-piece, with a great assumption
of dignity and refinement of manner, sat an elderly female, in as
many scraps of finery as Madge Wildfire herself. Her head in
particular was so strewn with scraps of gauze and cotton and bits
of paper, and had so many queer odds and ends stuck all about it,
that it looked like a bird's-nest. She was radiant with imaginary
jewels; wore a rich pair of undoubted gold spectacles; and
gracefully dropped upon her lap, as we approached, a very old
greasy newspaper, in which I dare say she had been reading an
account of her own presentation at some Foreign Court.
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