seriously for a moment. . . . Down in the country, among other jobs,
I have to sit on an Asylum Committee: and from the start I've been
struck by the number of officials in charge of lunatics who seem,
after some while at it, to go a bit dotty themselves. Doctors, male
attendants--it doesn't seem to affect the women so much--even
chaplains--after a time I wouldn't give more than short odds on the
complete sanity of any of 'em. Why, even our Chairman . . . I must
tell you about our Chairman. . . . He's old, and you may put it down
to senile decay. Before we discharge a patient, or let him out as
harmless, it's our custom to have him up before the Committee with a
relative who undertakes to be answerable for him. Well, our
Chairman, of late, can't be trusted to tell t'other from which: and
it's pretty painful when he starts on the vacant-looking patient and
says, pointing a finger at the astonished relative, 'You see,
Mr. So-and-so, the apparent condition of this poor creature.
It is with some hesitation that we have given this case the benefit
of the doubt; and we cannot hand him over unless satisfied that you
feel your responsibility to be a grave one.'"

Foe got up, smiling dourly, knocked out his pipe, and chose a fresh
one from the mantelpiece. "You'll make quite a good story of that,
Roddy," he said, "with a little practice. But, as I don't work among
lunatics, what's the bearing of it?"

"You're working," said I, "--for years now you've been working and
overworking--on these wretched animals, and neglecting the society of
your fellow-men. You pore over animals, you probe into animals,
you're always thinking about animals; which amounts to consorting
with animals--at their worst, too. . . . I tell you, Jack, it won't
do. I've had my doubts for some time, but to-night I'm sure of it.
If you go on as you're going, there'll be a smash, my boy."

I was half afraid he would fly out on me. But he lit his pipe
thoughtfully, dropped the match into the fire, and watched it burn
out before he answered.

"And I'm to consort with my fellow-men, eh?--with the sort you led me
among to-night?" He laughed harshly, with a not ill-humoured snort.
"Is that your prescription? Thank you, I prefer my bad beasts."

"No," I said. "After to-night it's not my prescription. I'll give
you another. I know your work, and that your heart's in it.
But ease down this term as far as the lecture-list allows, and then
at Easter com