Suppose my relatives and friends had held aloof during this apparently hopeless period, what to-day would be my feelings toward them?  Let others answer.  For over two years I considered all letters forgeries.  Yet the day came when I convinced myself of their genuineness and the genuineness of the love of those who sent them.  Perhaps persons who have relatives among the more than a quarter of a million patients in institutions in this country to-day will find some comfort in this fact.  To be on the safe and humane side, let every relative and friend of persons so afflicted remember the Golden Rule, which has never been suspended with respect to the insane.  Go to see them, treat them sanely, write to them, keep them informed about the home circle; let not your devotion flag, nor accept any repulse.

The consensus now was that my condition was unlikely ever to improve, and the question of my commitment to some institution where incurable cases could be cared for came up for decision.  While it was being considered, my attendant kept assuring me that it would be unnecessary to commit me to an institution if I would but show some improvement.  So he repeatedly suggested that I go to New Haven and spend a day at home.  At this time, it will be recalled, I was all but mute, so, being unable to beguile me into speech, the attendant one morning laid out for my use a more fashionable shirt than I usually wore, telling me to put it on if I wished to make the visit.  That day it took me an unusually long time to dress, but in the end I put on the designated garment.  Thus did one part of my brain outwit another.

I simply chose the less of two evils.  The greater was to find myself again committed to an institution.  Nothing else would have induced me to go to New Haven.  I did not wish to go.  To my best knowledge and belief, I had no home there, nor did I have any relatives or friends who would greet me upon my return.  How could they, if still free, even approach me while I was surrounded by detectives?  Then, too, I had a lurking suspicion that my attendant’s offer was made in the belief that I would not dare accept it.  By taking him at his word, I knew that I should at least have an opportunity to test the truth of many of his statements regarding my old home.  Life had become insupportable; and back of my consent to make this experimental visit was a willingness to beard the detectives in their own den, regardless of consequences.  With these and many other reflections I started for the train.  The events of the journey which followed are of no moment.  We soon reached the New Haven station; and, as I had expected, no relative or friend was there to greet us.  This apparent indifference seemed to support my suspicion that my attendant had not told me the truth; but I found little satisfaction in uncovering his deceit, for the more of a liar I proved him to be, the worse would be my plight.  We walked to the front of the station and stood there for almost half an hour.  The unfortunate, but perfectly natural, wording of a question caused the delay.