“I am very much surprised,” I said, “at what you tell me; for I made sure that, at this moment, no other method of treatment for mania existed in any portion of the country.” “You are young yet, my friend,” replied my host, “but the time will arrive when you will learn to judge for yourself of what is going on in the world, without trusting to the gossip of others. Believe nothing you hear, and only one-half that you see. Now about our _Maisons de Santé_, it is clear that some ignoramus has misled you. After dinner, however, when you have sufficiently recovered from the fatigue of your ride, I will be happy to take you over the house, and introduce to you a system which, in my opinion, and in that of every one who has witnessed its operation, is incomparably the most effectual as yet devised.” “Your own?” I inquired—“one of your own invention?” “I am proud,” he replied, “to acknowledge that it is—at least in some measure.” In this manner I conversed with Monsieur Maillard for an hour or two, during which he showed me the gardens and conservatories of the place. “I cannot let you see my patients,” he said, “just at present. To a sensitive mind there is always more or less of the shocking in such exhibitions; and I do not wish to spoil your appetite for dinner. We will dine. I can give you some veal a la Menehoult, with cauliflowers in _velouté_ sauce—after that a glass of Clos de Vougeot—then your nerves will be sufficiently steadied.”