Schanz. She seemed quite lost, but when
the nurses put her at some sewing she did her work well and
quickly. At three in the afternoon all the patients were given a gruel
broth, and at five a cup of tea and a piece of bread. I was favored; for
when they saw that it was impossible for me to eat the bread or
drink the stuff honored by the name of tea, they gave me a cup of
milk and a cracker, the same as I had had at noon.
Just as the gas was being lighted another patient was added. She was
a young girl, twenty-five years old. She told me that she had just
gotten up from a sick bed. Her appearance confirmed her story. She
looked like one who had had a severe attack of fever. “I am now
suffering from nervous debility,” she said, “and my friends have
sent me here to be treated for it.” I did not tell her where she was,
and she seemed quite satisfied. At 6.15 Miss Ball said that she
wanted to go away, and so we would all have to go to bed. Then
each of us–we now numbered six–were assigned a room and told to
undress. I did so, and was given a short, cotton-flannel gown to wear
during the night. Then she took every particle of the clothing I had
worn during the day, and, making it up in a bundle, labeled it
“Brown,” and took it away. The iron-barred window was locked,
and Miss Ball, after giving me an extra blanket, which, she said, was
a favor rarely granted, went out and left me alone. The bed was not a
comfortable one. It was so hard, indeed, that I could not make a dent
in it; and the pillow was stuffed with straw. Under the sheet was an
oilcloth spread. As the night grew colder I tried to warm that
oilcloth. I kept on trying, but when morning dawned and it was still
as cold as when I went to bed, and had reduced me too, to the
temperature of an iceberg, I gave it up as an impossible task.
I had hoped to get some rest on this my first night in an insane
asylum. But I was doomed to disappointment. When the night
nurses came in they were curious to see me and to find out what I
was like. No sooner had they left than I heard some one at my door
inquiring for Nellie Brown, and I began to tremble, fearing always
37
Ten Days in a Mad-House
that my sanity would be discovered. By listening to the conversation
I found it was a reporter in search of me, and I heard him ask for my
clothing so that he might examine it. I listened quite anxiously to the
talk about me, and was relieved to learn that I was considered
hopelessly insane. That was encouraging. After the reporter left I
heard new arrivals, and I learned that a doctor was there and
intended to see me. For what purpose I knew not, and I imagined all
sorts of horrible things, such as examinations and the rest of it, and
when they got to my room I was shaking with more than fear.
“Nellie Brown, here is the doctor; he wishes to speak with you,” said
the nurse. If that’s all he wanted I thought I could endure it. I
removed the blanket which I had put over my head in my sudden
fright and looked up. The sight was reassuring.
He was a handsome young man. He had the air and address of a
gentleman. Some people have since censured this action; but I feel
sure, even if it was a little indiscreet, that they young doctor only
meant kindness to me. He came forward, seated himself on the side
of my bed, and put his arm soothingly around my shoulders. It was
a terrible task to play insane before this young man, and only a girl
can sympathize with me in my position.
“How do you feel to-night, Nellie?” he asked, easily.
“Oh, I feel all right.”
“But you are sick, you know,” he said.
“Oh, am I?” I replied, and I turned by head on the pillow and smiled.
“When did you leave Cuba, Nellie?”
“Oh, you know my home?” I asked.
“Yes, very well. Don’t you remember me? I remember you.”
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Ten Days in a Mad-House
“Do you?” and I mentally said I should not forget him. He was
accompanied by a friend