There was one exception. On entering one of the
wards, a girl of an earnest and determined aspect, as soon as she saw Dr.
Conolly began to scream violently, and sprang towards him, thrusting aside
the bystanders by main force. Two of the female attendants came
immediately up and strove to appease her, holding her back without
severity, as a mother would restrain her infant. I saw them struggling
with her for some time; how they finally disposed of her I did not
observe, but her screams had ceased before we left the ward.
Among the patients was one who, we were told, was remarkable for his
extravagant love of finery, and whose cell was plastered over with glaring
colored prints and patches of colored paper ornamentally disposed. He wore
on his hat a broad strip of tarnished lace, and had decorated his
waistcoat with several perpendicular rows of pearl buttons.
"You have made your room very fine here," said the doctor.
"Yes," said he, smiling and evidently delighted, "but, my dear sir, all is
vanity - all is vanity, sir, and vexation of spirit. There is but one thing
that we ought to strive for, and that is the kingdom of heaven."
As there was no disputing this proposition, we passed on to another cell,
at the door of which stood a tall, erect personage, who was busy with a
pot of paint and a brush, inscribing the pannels with mottoes and scraps
of verse.
