The first performance of the kind I ever saw, I think, was in January of 1864. The supervisor, Mr. Butler, said to me I must prepare myself to go down to Mechanics' Hall, in the city, as some performances were to be acted there that afternoon and evening. I begged to be excused, but there was no use in talking; so I got ready. I recollect that about a score of us poor lunatics, were marched off to the city. I shall never forget how I felt when I reached there. It seemed to me that all eyes were turned upon us, as they knew we came from the asylum; perhaps I was a little too sensitive on this point. I looked on, or pretended to look on, but I did it mostly with my eyes shut. I took no interest in the whole matter. I only went to obey orders; but I was a good deal like the horse who would not drink after he was led to the water. If there is any sanitive power in knowing we must obey, then I suppose I was benefited; so I walked down the hill, and walked up again. So we were a privileged people; we could go to the theatre, dance, play at billiards, attend church, drink whiskey or porter, and all sanctioned by law. On this hall there is something of a library, containing, perhaps, five or six hundred volumes, besides papers, both daily and weekly, that are brought on to the hall; so that all who desire reading can have it. Patients from other halls frequently come down and get books, read and return them. As to religious service, it is regular once a week, every Sabbath evening, so that all who desire to attend church can have the privilege in the chapel. Besides this, there are quite a number, such as the doctor pleases to select, who have the privilege of going into the city to church, accompanied by an attendant, who goes to see that they keep orderly and return home at the close of service. I observed that people of all creeds were in the institution—Episcopalians, Methodists, Baptists, Presbyterians, Roman Catholics, Quakers, Unitarians, Universalists and Swedenburghers, so that no one denomination can boast that their members are never insane. I judge, however, that there are more Roman Catholics, compared with their numbers, than any others in the asylum. Another inquiry arose in my mind while in the asylum, viz.: What class of the inhabitants form the majority in that institution? This is rather a hard question; yet, perhaps, we can arrive at something near the truth on the subject. In doing this I will divide society into four classes, as follows: first, professional men and men of study; secondly, business men, who have much care on their minds; thirdly, the common laboring class, which compose the great majority of mankind; fourthly, that floating unsettled class of men, who live as they can catch it, with no settled business, and indulge in drinking and in other loose habits of life.