tes at eight. Such of them as can
be usefully employed are, in cleaning the wards, and in various domestic
duties; but they have plenty of spare time--the women for sewing or
knitting, and the men for out-door exercise or reading. In one ward I
found some good books on the table, such as Boswell's Johnson, Gibbon's
Life, popular works on science, and _Punch_ and several magazines. The
only woman I saw reading was an old one, with a Bible before her. The
women are by far more troublesome than the men. Directly I went into one
ward, a middle-aged woman advanced towards me, with one arm uplifted,
exclaiming, "Here comes my husband, King John." Another female, still
plainer and more elderly, seemed inclined to address to me endearments of
a still tenderer character. It was clear that they retained the
instincts of their sex without its clearness. Yet there were some to
whom the novelty of a stranger offered no excitement--who sat huddled up
by the window, with scowling eyes and dishevelled hair, flesh-and-blood
pictures of despair. This one had led a gay life--what a termination for
a votary of pleasure! That one had become what she was by drinking; this
one again by the grand passion, which underlies all history, past and
present--all philosophy, objective or subjective--all religion, true or
false. But, hark! it is a quarter to one, and that is the dinner bell.
We enter the hall, a room capable of holding seven or eight hundred
persons. Some enormous Yorkshire puddings, with some excellent beef, are
borne by several eager assistants (patients) on to the tables in the
middle of the room; they are immediately cut up, and each portion is
enough for one person's dinner. When the tables set apart for the women
are served, the door opens, and in rush the poor creatures in a manner
that shows they have not lost their relish for food. On the men's side
similar preparations are made, and then in they rush; and when all are
seated, a blessing is asked, and dinner commences: it does not last long.
As soon as the patients have cut up their pudding, the knives and forks
are carefully removed--and in a very few minutes a signal is made; they
all rise--thanks are returned, and the meal is over--such as have not had
enough generally managing to collar a bit of pudding as they march out.
This is very short work, you say, but it is quite long enough. You will
hear a woman screaming now and then, short as it is, and an attempt w