As we proceeded, a man rose from his seat, and laying both hands on a table before him, so as to display his fingers, ornamented with rings made of black ribbon, in which glass buttons were set for jewels, addressed Dr. Conolly with great respect, formally setting forth that he was in great want of a new coat for Sundays, the one he had on being positively unfit to appear in, and that a better had been promised him.  The doctor stopped, inquired into the case, and the poor fellow was gratified by the assurance that the promised coat should be speedily forthcoming.

In his progress through the wards Dr. Conolly listened with great patience to the various complaints of the inmates.  One of them came up and told us that he did not think the methods of the institution judicious.  “The patients,” said he, “are many of them growing worse.  One in particular, who has been here for several weeks, I can see is growing worse every day.”  Dr. Conolly asked the name of this patient—­“I can not tell,” said the man, “but I can bring him to you.”  “Bring him then,” said the doctor; and after a moment’s absence he returned, leading up one of the healthiest and quietest looking men in the ward.  “He looks better to be sure,” said the man, “but he is really worse.”  A burst of laughter from the patients who stood by followed this saying, and one of them looking at me knowingly, touched his forehead to intimate that the objector was not exactly in his senses.

In one of the female wards we were introduced, as gentlemen from America, to a respectable-looking old lady in black, who sat with a crutch by her side.  “Are you not lawyers?” she asked, and when we assured her that we were only Yankees, she rebuked us mildly for assuming such a disguise, when she knew very well that we were a couple of attorneys.  “And you, doctor,” she added, “I am surprised that you should have any thing to do with such a deception.”  The doctor answered that he was very sorry she had so bad an opinion of him, as she must be sensible that he had never said any thing to her which was not true.  “Ah, doctor,” she rejoined, “but you are the dupe of these people.”

It was in the same ward, I think, that a well-dressed woman, in a bonnet and shawl, was promenading the room, carrying a bible and two smaller volumes, apparently prayer or hymn books.  “Have you heard the very reverend Mr. ——­, in ——­ chapel?” she asked of my fellow-traveller.  I have unfortunately forgotten the name of the preacher and his chapel.  On being answered in the negative, “Then go and hear him,” she added, “when you return to London.”  She went on to say that the second coming of the Saviour was to take place, and the world to be destroyed in a very few days, and that she had a commission to proclaim the approach of that event.  “These poor people,” said she, “think that I am here on the same account as themselves, when I am only here to prepare the way for the second coming.”