Reader, you may be ready to throw it back upon me, saying it is derangement, I expect it; let me once have heard of such a thing and I don't know but I should have thought it derangement. But, christian reader, it is you and you only that can understand a part of my language, speaking about my spiritual life. All who formerly knew me, who see me now, say that some cruelty has been done to me. My old neighbors that knew me from a child, say that I am so altered they hardly know me. My old New Hampton school mates that I have met with since I was taken out of the Hospital, start back with surprise and say that they can hardly trace a look in me that I once had, and not a trait in my deportment that I once possessed. They say "that countenance that once was lit up with happiness is now marked with deep sorrow; those eyes that once sparkled with joy are now dead and sunken with grief, and the language, and the voice are so different that some destruction has come upon you;" and when I tell them what it is, my long imprisonment, sixteen months and twenty days, not allowed to see any one that I ever saw before, only three of my folks during the time, nor allowed to write; how my happiness is taken from me, my body racked and tortured, the distressed situation that I am in, they are bathed in tears. "O tell me not, Elizabeth, that you are lost; you was once so happy in the love of God," and the deep loud sob bursts from their full hearts, "Can this be Elizabeth Stone; can this crime be done and this cruelty practised here in the midst of us and covered up and nothing said about it?" Is this the state of our country, that the rights of a poor female are trampled upon, and the laws of our country, where there has been so much blood spilt to work out the liberty of every free born son and daughter of America. And because I endeavor to make known to the world this crime, I am threatened with a second imprisonment, by my brother Eben. If it is a crazy story surely it will do no harm, and if it is not, why had it not ought to come out. Let a council of physicians be held upon my body and see if I am a person that can enjoy life. I think that minds that understand the organization of the human body and its functions will say that some outrage has been commited upon me. If I had lost my reason is it right to take the advantage of a crazy person and destroy happiness. Charlestown McLean Assylum is to a weak excited person as a grog-shop is to an intemperate man, or a house of ill-fame, to a licentious person; they can be completely ruined. I hope this will be looked into before another one is destroyed, and that those still remaining in that awful place of imprisonment, weeping their hours away, may be relieved by seeing their friends soon. May God awaken the mind of the public to the sufferings of the helpless.