Like Paul, I have suffered, and that too for Christ's sake; like Paul I have been cruelly beaten, yea, and imprisoned, and my feet made fast in the stocks or straps. And like Job I have been delivered into the hands of the devil, all but my life apparently. Whatever might have been the great design of the good Lord in my case, I can say, with Paul, our light afflictions, which are but for a moment, work out for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory. I believe the path of the righteous groweth brighter and brighter unto the perfect day, though they may have trials and afflictions to encounter; Jesus promised his grace shall be sufficient for them. Again and again I have visited the asylum, and when I look for that once beautiful garden it is not there, it is gone, the hedge is removed, the vineyard is rooted up, the beautiful pear tree that was heavily loaded near the window was gone, the currant bush and the strawberry beds all removed. We ask the cause of this great change. Who hath sinned, this happy appearing pair or their children, or the twenty-six governors of the institution. We hope for the best, praying that change after change may take place, until lunatic asylums become what they were originally designed for, the benefit of the inmates and their weeping friends, and not for the benefit of slave holders in the first degree. Like the garden, we shall all be changed in the twinkling of an eye. THE GARDEN CONVERTED INTO SHADY WALKS. During my stay in the incurable house from July 3, 1862, to October 13, 1871, the beautiful garden that lay west of the asylum was converted into pleasant walks, with paths and crosswalks overspread with beautiful shade trees of various kinds, and a beautiful croquet lawn, neatly arranged for the diversion of the patients. In 1860 or 1861 I was met at the dining table by Wm. B. Gibbs, an old acquaintance, who accosted me in the following manner: "How do you do, Brother Swan, I am glad to see you here." Glad, thought I, and happy to see a brother shut up in a lunatic asylum. I was not made glad to see any one who did not try to help me to get home. In the main house I had but few calls from acquaintances. I will record the names of those: My wife, P. Stade, Pittstown; C. Pierce, do; Mrs. Norman Baker, do; Mr. Sprut, do; John Warren, do. Home, home sweet home, thought I. This Wm. B. Gibbs have just come from Utica Asylum, having been there once and again many years, at this time somewhat ferocious and mischievous, became quiet, and his sister took him home about 1867, with whom he now lives in a low, melancholy state of mind. N. B.--Sometimes a person's troubles arise from the abuses of others, and sometimes from self-abuse. Could self-abused persons say as did the penitent thief on the cross, all would be well. MY TREATMENT IN THE MAIN HOUSE.