from bed, connect him vaguely with the Orton family; and among the _dramatis personæ_ of my imagination I knew him as young Orton, and whiled away some of my hours by constructing romances about him and the Tichborne inheritance. There was another man, affectionately known to a circle of admiring friends as 'Birdie,' who was so like him that it made me rather angry not to be able to make up my mind which was the truer claimant. It was, at any rate, something to do. But 'Birdie' was good-natured also in his way, though fond of practical joking. I disliked his way of dipping my hairbrush in the basin in the morning, when I was too weak to remonstrate, and using it on his own bullet-head under my eyes; but I bear him no grudge. One of his amusements did me some harm; for he had a way of whipping up things in the room and running off with them--to puzzle me, I suppose, laughing all the time. He performed this feat once with a new antimacassar; and from that moment, coupled with the indescribable disorder and entire absence of all visible supervision over the attendants, which reigned in the big madhouse, it created in my mind a notion that there was more dishonesty in the place than might be. It was a 'delusion,' of course, and the 'notes' must have had much to say to it; the more as, when it became known, some of the men would play on it as on an instrument, as I fear they are but too apt to play in ignorance, having but too much opportunity so to do, on the weaknesses and fancies of the poor people in their charge. The thing is not worth many words, but it is a very fair instance of the way in which this abominable system tends to create the very things which it is supposed to cure. My reflections upon the Orton family--quite as much of a delusion as the other--are written in no notes but my own.