One of the most vivid recollections of my childhood is that of a scene which illustrates these remarks. A poor crazy man who wandered about the streets was thought to have become dangerous, and it was proposed to confine him in the common jail. A plan was laid to do it by stratagem. He fancied himself to own some large possessions, and talked much about going to Boston to see his friend the governor, and attend to his business there. A neighbor offered to go with him, and he accepted the offer. As they passed by the jail, his friend proposed to visit it. As they entered one of the cells he adroitly slipped out, and the door was closed upon the insane man. His dream of earthly happiness and wealth was in a moment at an end, and he beheld himself the victim of base treachery in the narrow cell of a prison. Never shall I forget how eloquently he pleaded for his release, how he asked what crime could be charged to his account, how he denounced those who had thus without cause shut him up like a felon, and especially with what sorrowful but burning indignation he spoke of the man, ‘who under the guise of friendship, had decoyed him into this snare of his enemies.’ Though a mere boy, I pitied him. I sympathised with him. I had known him only as a pleasant old man, who used to amuse us as we met him in the streets with stories of his immense wealth and of the splendid plans of building on which he loved to speculate. I felt that it was wrong to confine him among vile criminals, and wondered not that the keen sense of such injury prompted to the utterance of curses on those who inflicted it. But these natural feelings gave way in my bosom, as they did in older ones, to what was then supposed to be the necessity of the case—a necessity which, I rejoice to say, has since that been found not to exist in similar cases. A very great improvement has been effected in this as well as in other respects, in the management of the insane. Most of those whom it was once thought necessary to confine with bolts and bars, and perhaps chains, and upon whom deception was continually and systematically practised, thus adding poignancy to the pangs of the oppressed spirit, are now permitted to have so much liberty, that they are cheerful and happy, reposing entire confidence in their attendants, who are careful never to deceive them. And those whom it is thought necessary to confine, are not doomed to the cheerlessness and disgrace of the cell of the felon, but they are placed in as agreeable circumstances as is consistent with safety. And it has come to be an established rule with those who have the care of the insane, that force is always preferable to deception. But still, erroneous views are very prevalent in the community on this subject. It is common to this day, even among the excellent and well informed, to propose to send their insane friends to a Retreat by stratagem, and this has often been done even by the advice of physicians.