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Visitor, do you see that man in the sailor's jacket ? Yes. Well, we will call him Shipmate, for his business has been upon the great waters. He has been in the hurricane and the storm, where man sees the majesty of God in its power. He was a shipwrecked mariner, taken from some fragments of the wreck of a ship, in a senseless state, brought into port, sent to the marine hospital, and was upon his recovery found partially insane, and sent to the Insane Hospital in order to receive the benefits of that "noble institution." Alas, what a place to restore reason to the wandering mind. He was doomed a prisoner for life -- no power could rescue him. He would say that they had got him under a ketch, and had no right to hem a marine. He would kick at the doors to break them open, and call upon the marine power to rescue him. But, poor fellow, had you been in a foreign prison, and your friends known it, you would very soon have had the whole of "Uncle Sam's" marine power to battered down the prison walls which held you as a victim, but your calls were only answered by closer confinement, or by the shower bath. But, Shipmate, your prison doors are now open ; you are now free ; those bloody and inhuman cells have been purified with fire, and your body and spirit has passed into that haven where the captive is set free, the weary are at rest, and the wicked cease from troubling.

Stop, visitor. Do you see that short, thick-set man in that chair? It is the month of August, and do you see those hungry flies digging out his eyes? He does not even wink to drive them away, but there sits from morning to night. You speak to him, and he will not answer you ; not a word can you get from him. He is meditating; but is he dumb, or what is the matter? Why, he is completely cast down, with no ambition to arise from his stupor. But stop: what call is that: the attendant sings out in a loud voice, "dinner! d-i-n-n-e-r! D-I-N-N-E-R!" He gets up, takes his chair and waddles along to the dining room , sits down to the table, and his tongue has become loose; and then look out. If there has been any discussion within a day or two by any of the patients, either upon politics or religion, or any other subject, then you will get his views upon it in full, and he is no fool, I can assure you, but a very intelligent man, and what he says shows a mind of no ordinary cast and sagacity. Well, he went from the chair onto his bed with a fractured leg, and laid there a year, until the doctor got tired of his trouble and sent him home a cripple for life. But his mind is now in possession of its sound and reasoning faculties. May God bless and shield him.

Do you see that man at the table, at work cutting out a garment from some cloth? Well, what of him? Why, he is a tailor by trade, and was born in the great city of London. From some cause not known to me, he became much depressed in spirits, distracted or bewildered, and made one or two unsuccessful attempts to put an end to the existence which God had given him. Unhappy man, to thus, in his hallucinations think he must take such a fearful leap in the dark gloomy future, which all mortals in their right mind so much dread.

But, observe him a few minutes. Do you see -- he leaves his work, and walks to and fro through the gallery. But, hark, do you hear him talking to himself. Yes. Well, if you will catch his words you will find that he is using very sublime and lofty language. His oratory will make you exclaim, "the immortal Shakspeare is among us," and such a personage he almost imagines himself to be. Well, he continues at his work for two or three months ; throws off his delusions; becomes calm and rational, and in due time is perfectly restored and returns to his family and friends, as I firmly trust to never again give himself away to such unholy desires, but patiently to wait for God's appointed time.

Visitor, do you see that tall old man, with his iron bound "specs" across his Roman nose? Yes, he has been hanging about me ever since I have been here, and begged some tobacco of me. Hanging about you, has he ? Well, then, you had better look after your handkerchief. Had I ? Well, it is gone. Ah, is it -- well he is crazy, and has a natural propensity to accumulate, as they call it here when a person appropriates the property of another to his own use, without giving an equivalent for it; and that is the old man's propensity, or, in other words his insanity, which principally develops itself in that manner. If any thing is lost you will be pretty sure to find it in his possession, and besides that he is the doctor's fool or puppet, for when visitors come in he is always in the way, and the doctor uses him to gammon his visitors, by asking him some question concerning his maledy, which he is always ready to answer, and in that manner the doctor obtains a notoriety for attending to the wants of his patients, and so the game of deception is played upon the public, perhaps 20 times a day. Besides that, the old man has another propensity which is as natural to him as the other. He is dirty, filthy, and is always squirting his tobacco juice in every place but the spittoon. For weeks he has squirted out of a patient's window, who never uses the filthy weed, and wishes his room to be kept clean. He has been threatened with violence if he does it. It is the Sabbath -- the attandant has gone to meeting -- the old man has besmeared the window, and is told to clean it. He refuses to do it, and is told if he repeats it he will rue it. He replies, "I ain't afraid of you" -- and in a few minutes he has repeated the operation and the deed is hardly done before his "specs" are minus a glass, the claret runs in a stream from his nose, and for weeks he wears the sores upon his proboscis, and thus, by legal suasion, is taught to cause no more trouble to that patient.