Ten Days in a Mad-House and Other Stories
have described?”
    I had seen them in the new Western Penitentiary at Pittsburg, Pa.,
    but I did not dare say so. I merely answered:
    “Oh, I have seen them in a place I was in–I mean as a visitor.”
    “There is only one place I know of where they have those locks,” he
    said, sadly, “and that is at Sing Sing.”
    The inference is conclusive. I laughed very heartily over the implied
    accusation, and tried to assure him that I had never, up to date, been
    an inmate of Sing Sing or even ever visited it.
    Just as the morning began to dawn I went to sleep. It did not seem
    many moments until I was rudely awakened and told to get up, the
    window being opened and the clothing pulled off me. My hair was
    still wet and I had pains all through me, as if I had the rheumatism.
    Some clothing was flung on the floor and I was told to put it on. I
    asked for my own, but was told to take what I got and keep quiet by
    the apparently head nurse, Miss Grady. I looked at it. One underskirt
    made of coarse dark cotton goods and a cheap white calico dress
    with a black spot in it. I tied the strings of the skirt around me and
    put on the little dress. It was made, as are all those worn by the
    patients, into a straight tight waist sewed on to a straight skirt. As I
    buttoned the waist I noticed the underskirt was about six inches
    longer than the upper, and for a moment I sat down on the bed and
    laughed at my own appearance. No woman ever longed for a mirror
    more than I did at that moment.
    I saw the other patients hurrying past in the hall, so I decided not to
    lose anything that might be going on. We numbered forty-five

63
Ten Days in a Mad-House
    patients in Hall 6, and were sent to the bathroom, where there were
    two coarse towels. I watched crazy patients who had the most
    dangerous eruptions all over their faces dry on the towels and then
    saw women with clean skins turn to use them. I went to the bathtub
    and washed my face at the running faucet and my underskirt did
    duty for a towel.
    Before I had completed my ablutions a bench was brought into the
    bathroom. Miss Grupe and Miss McCarten came in with combs in
    their hands. We were told so sit down on the bench, and the hair of
    forty-five women was combed with one patient, two nurses, and six
    combs. As I saw some of the sore heads combed I thought this was
    another dose I had not bargained for. Miss Tillie Mayard had her
    own comb, but it was taken from her by Miss Grady. Oh, that
    combing! I never realized before what the expression “I’ll give you a
    combing” meant, but I knew then. My hair, all matted and wet from
    the night previous, was pulled and jerked, and, after expostulating to
    no avail, I set my teeth and endured the pain. They refused to give
    me my hairpins, and my hair was arranged in one plait and tied with
    a red cotton rag. My curly bangs refused to stay back, so that at least
    was left of my former glory.
    After this we went to the sitting-room and I looked for my
    companions. At first I looked vainly, unable to distinguish them
    from the other patients, but after awhile I recognized Miss Mayard
    by her short hair.
    “How did you sleep after your cold bath?”
    “I almost froze, and then the noise kept me awake. It’s dreadful! My
    nerves were so unstrung before I came here, and I fear I shall not be
    able to stand the strain.”
    I did the best I could to cheer her. I asked that we be given additional
    clothing, at least as much as custom says women shall wear, but they
    told me to shut up; that we had as much as they intended to give us.

64
Ten Days in a Mad-House
    We were compelled to get up at 5.30 o’clock, and at 7.15 we were
    told to collect in the hall, where the experience of waiting, as on the
    evening previous, was repeated. When we got into the dining-room
    at last we found a bowl of cold tea, a slice of buttered bread and a
    saucer of oatmeal, with molasses on it, for each patient. I was
    hungry, but the food would not down. I asked

Similar Books

All or Nothing

Belladonna Bordeaux

Surgeon at Arms

Richard Gordon

A Change of Fortune

Sandra Heath

Witness to a Trial

John Grisham

The One Thing

Marci Lyn Curtis

Y: A Novel

Marjorie Celona

Leap

Jodi Lundgren

Shark Girl

Kelly Bingham