the same

singing flames, in fact, have remote bearings upon subject, more or less obvious, and more or less scientific. The vowel-flame is a curious phenomenon, because, as Tyndall shows, it is a demonstrator of the theory of vowel sounds, and is sensitive only to overtones, whilst marvellously affected by the letter s in whatever form it may occur. Whether s and z be produced by an interruption in the continuity of the particles of the air, as we find the hiss of escaping steam is formed, and as some seem to think, is also a matter hereafter to be investigated. The manner in which a sensitive flame will answer to a sound so long as it can be heard, though it be generated at intervals in a neighbouring room, seems to help us to better understand what we may term the responsive music of association, or the rhythmic revival of thought.

In fine, Professor Tyndall's researches upon sound open what is little less to us than a new kingdom of thought. It has long been the fashion to laugh at Hartley's doctrine of vibrations and vibratiuncules, but there is very much more truth in it than we have heretofore supposed. Science, in this case, helps metaphysics, and the correlation of force is but the initial thought that lands us in the correlation of sensational and intellectual states, though we are quite aware that we ourselves are open to the just criticism of being in haste to generalise the results of one branch of knowledge by applying them to another, and to the unjust taunt of maintaining that souls are only well-mixed bodies,' and immortality a dream. We lovingly leave, however, the whole region of mystery behind us. We may have widened the range of the sensible, but we have not destroyed the supranatural; it rises and rises above all until it seems like the golden cirrhi of some blue summer's day.

LIFE IN LUNATIC ASYLUMS.

THO is there in this age of excitement and fast living, when mind and body are goaded to the utmost point of rational endurance, that has not been made familiar with that dread disease we term insanity? In some one or other of its Protean forms it has visited many of us, either personally or relatively, and yet how few are able to form even a faint conception of the utter wretchedness commonly attached to that state of mind that isolates its hapless possessor from the endearments and sympathies of social life, placing him without Vol. 10.-No. 40.

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the pale of human friendship, and making him an object of scorn and contempt, rather than of compassion and tenderness? The official statistics of lunacy show a very large number of the population of the United Kingdom who are annually reported as afflicted with this mysterious malady. In one portion of it the proportion is two to every thousand. The number of certified lunatics in England in 1863 was 31,957; this would give a proportion of one insane person in six hundred of the general population; but in London the proportion is one to four hundred. Restricted neither to age, rank, nor sex, this awful foe invades our homes and hearths, often with noiseless footstep, singling therefrom our choicest flowers, spring blossoms, or autumn fruits.

Enlightened medical skill, combined with Christian philanthropy, has done something to alleviate the condition of the sufferers, but even the wise and humane physician is often as unable to effect the cure of the mental disorganisation of his patient as to detect its true cause, and is constrained to confess that the odds in favour of a complete restoration to health and vigour are fearfully against him.

The

Who, in passing those costly homes of wretchedness, private madhouses, can imagine the misery, the agony, and, still worse, the mute despair that reign there? If a laugh should disturb the fearful silence it is a mockery, and in its boisterousness is truly the laugh that laughs not.' expensive building, the enchanting pleasure grounds, strains of beautiful music, and the well-dressed inmates and dependants, with their aristocratic sovereign, the doctor himself, at the head, are too often the only visions presented to the minds of those who ever take the trouble to associate the poor lunatic, even for a few moments, with their most earnest thoughts. Could such look behind the scenes, recollecting that the traces of the serpent which once lurked in the shrubs and flowers of the primal Eden are presented here in pictures of burning fire, how would they gaze upon the tableaux vivants? Grief, passion, hate, and selfishness claim their share of dominion with love, sorrow, patient submission, and confiding gentleness.

We have conversed with some who affirm that because the old system of whipping, chains, and torture has been superseded by milder discipline, no further reformation is needed in our asylums. Our present object is to show that no social institutions require more vigilant notice than some of these places. Facts have been occasionally revealed which testify to the fearful abuses yet existing, and to the urgent necessity of a thorough reform in the whole system of the treatment of

lunatics; let not the insufficient palliatives often urged be considered, for they are utterly worthless! In many of our private asylums the whole machinery is defective, if not altogether wrong. True, the doctor depends mainly on his success for his good repute, and hence from him may have originated many of the improvements made of late years; yet he is to a great extent in the hands of his dependants, and in the selection of these it is seldom that moral excellence and power of intelligent perceptions are made indispensable qualifications for those who seek the onerous and responsible offices of nurses to the insane. Cruelty, cunning, and selfishness are frequently the most prominent characteristics of those who are employed; nor is it wonderful that, excited and irritated by such attendants, the patients are driven hopelessly mad for the residue of their lives. We fear such cases are not uncommon, for the power which is wielded by these subordinates is immense, and in a certain sense the issues of life and death may be said to be in their hands. So much depends upon the testimony of the hired nurse, that the doctor's verdict must be influenced by it; should the nurse be untruthful, it is easily seen what evil results to the patient may ensue. The nervous and dejected may be characterised as indolent, obstinate, and fretful, and their recovery greatly retarded. The faculty of moral suasion, in contradistinction from physical force, must be insisted on in a nurse, or the most disastrous consequences will ensue. The Act of Parliament which provides for the protection of the insane, specifies that No attendant shall be allowed to strike a patient, under penalty of immediate dismissal.' How frequently this rule is violated, any one conversant with the inner working of an asylum may certify. Those bruises and marks upon the head, neck, and arms, which the doctor and visitor are assured, with a pleasant smile, were done by the patient, are more conclusive than pages of argument, or even than facts which might easily be adduced. Let us refer to some which can be well authenticated.

Follow us in imagination to the private asylum situated in the midst of gardens and pleasure grounds, where all that taste and elegance can suggest has been employed to create a beautiful retreat for the insane.

Nature has woven her most fascinating landscape, of grass, trees, and flowers, and the song of bird and hum of insects is heard, making low, sweet music around. What matters it that the walls are thick and high, and that no gates unclose save at the bidding of the master-key? Who would care to escape from the quiet beauty and tranquil delights of that earthly paradise? It is noon, and the patients who have been

walking in the garden are suddenly summoned in by the shrill voice of an attendant calling out, 'Ladies, all in'—for a shower of rain has come on, and the health of such well-cared-for persons must not be endangered. In the midst of the bustle of hurrying indoors, there is one who heeds not the summons, and has gone off to the other end of the garden; there she is amusing herself with plucking flowers to put in her bonnet. See how she joys in her occupation, and stays to admire each leaf and petal before she forms her wreath. Perhaps she is thinking of the loved home, and the time when she first passed from the joyousness of maidenhood to the pleasures and responsibilities of the matron and mother; for the names of her children are on her lips, and she has fixed upon some flower to represent each. For a few minutes she has the luxury of being alone, and yet she looks round cautiously, lest she should be disturbed in her occupation. Her bonnet is decked all over, and she is just putting it on to return at her leisure to the house; but she is seized from behind by a great strong woman, miscalled nurse, who, in no select language, begins to reprimand her for the delay, and to belabour with blows and cuffs. The poor, terrified creature has set off at full speed, and her slight form and agile movements soon defy the efforts of her pursuer, who has forgotten to shut the garden door, and will, therefore, afford her patient the benefit of a second range. The chase continues till the fugitive is exhausted, and then, panting for breath, she is brought in, a second nurse in readiness to assist in securing her if necessary. Would the spectator think this a harmless freak of an irresponsible being, whose actions are not to be weighed in the ordinary balance of human jurisprudence, and consequently to be passed over in silence? Let him see what follows. With some difficulty the poor woman has been terrified into her ward, and then a scene ensues, which we only dwell upon because truth and humanity demand such revelation. Let's cure her!' These words have a deep significance when they emanate from the lips of an asylum nurse. A bed quilt, being the nearest article at hand, is put on the floor, and the hapless victim thrown into it. Kneeling on the ground, the women have fastened it with tight knots, and then drag it down the passage to the bath-room. The water is turned on, the bath nearly filled, and the offender put in, the nurses keeping hold of the corners of the quilt, and moving their burden up and down till suffocation nearly ensues. Breathless and almost exhausted, the poor creature is asked if she will be good,' nor is the fearful punishment relaxed till an indistinct affirmative is wrung out of her. On one occasion a torture was

added to this, which we fear is not rare, namely, that of running needles into the thick part of the arm till the blood came. This is fine sport in the private asylum, nor would the days pass agreeably without some such recreation. The keys are another instrument always at hand wherewith to administer vindictive punishment should the patient have offended, however unwittingly, these functionaries; and many are the bruises and black marks left by heavy blows from these. In proportion to the imbecility and helplessness of the patient is the oppression and tyranny of the attendants. "They have no mind for anything,' is an all-potent reason why they should undergo all the indignities that are heaped on them uncomplainingly. We have seen an ignorant young nurse, for a very slight offence, tie over the head and face of her patient a cloth very tight, and then take her under a tap running with cold water till she has been dripping with wet and in a most pitiable condition. This was a gentle, loving girl, who had been a teacher before her affliction, and who usually spent her leisure in recalling the natural and physical geography of the world. She was ever docile and affectionate, and could be easily influenced by the magic power of love. A third instance we shall adduce is that of a patient suffering from religious melancholy. Little can the dearest friend conceive of the intensity and depth of her mental agony, transfixed in the iron cage of Despair. One idea absorbs her being it is this, she is lost for ever! The Bible to her is a spring shut up or a sealed fountain,' and the only angel who can open her eyes to the healing waters is the Saviour, whose name she dares not even utter. Imagine such a one left to the tender mercies of the hireling who never trembled at the dread name of God, or recognised Him as a tender Father. 'Religion's drove her quite off her head,' is all the idea the coarse and unpurified heart can associate with such affliction, and she must be laughed or tortured out of it. The Bible and every religious book is carefully kept out of her way, or if accidentally found in her possession, instantly pounced on and taken from her; while she is held up to her fellow-patients as a butt for raillery and sarcasm, and a large quantity of plain needlework (the very worst remedy that could be suggested for one in her state) is forced upon her. How frequently has the little volume of sacred poetry, so aptly and beautifully adapted to every phase of the Christian life, been wrested from her. The question arises, how far is the doctor cognizant of abuses proceeding from unsuitable or inefficient nurses? It is not uncommon for these medical gentlemen to stipulate, when they are engaging their assistants, that their patients