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Well, visitor, do you see that short, thick set man, about sixty years old, with a loose calico gown? Well, that is the Parson. He has been a preacher of the Gospel -- but hark, do you hear that? He beats Belzebub with his terrible profanity. But stop and look at him a moment. What does he say ? He has demanded of the doctor to send him home, which he will not do. He says -- well I will kill you. I have a knife and a Colt's pistol in my pocket, and will kill you on the spot." With horrid oaths and imprecations he takes out a pocket knife, which had not, according to the custom, been taken from him when first admitted. He deliberately opens it, and with all the venom and fierceness of a perfect maniac, he jumps at the doctor to strike a deadly blow. But, stop -- at that moment the attendant throws him-self between him and the doctor; strikes up his hand, and receives the point of the knife upon his own breast bone, which saves his own and the doctor's life. The attendant and a patient seize him, and Belzebub jumps and seizes his knife wrist. He is instantly thrown upon his back on the floor, and before the knife is wrested from him the attendant receives a terrible cut in the hand. But he is disarmed and put into maniac harness in a twinkling, as it were, and thus confined, like Lucifer in his chains, he is permitted to walk the gallery with other patients, until he becomes calm, and in about two months is permitted to go to his friends and family. He remains a few months and then comes to Augusta to visit his friends and the doctor, and one of the patients in particular, and give them some early sweet apples. Well, he comes into the gallery to see his crazy friend, and fills his pockets with sweet fruit, but is in so much haste that he can't possibly stop to tea, or even to play a game of draughts with him. He takes his leave and turns to go out of the door; but there are lions in the way. There stands the assistant doctor, the attendant of the gallery who has taken his cane, and two or three stout, muscular men from the "lower regions." The trap is sprung -- the victim caught. Those men tell him, "if you please we will take your knife now, parson." The doctor comes in, and in a friendly manner tells him he must remain the guest of the institution, at his own expense. He finally concludes to stop to tea with his crazy friend, whom he came expressly to visit, and sits down to the centre table, and with shaking and trembling hand and quivering lip, he concludes to play a game of draughts, just to drive dull care away. He stops a week, and walks out with the other patients. He sings, dances, and swears like a pirate; all at the same moment. He is ordered to stop his noise, but he makes the more. He is told to stop it or he must go below. He raves more than before, and the attendant goes out. He goes into the room of his friend, who has become suddenly dumb, and has not spoke for a week in order to stop his noise. He rolls up the sleeve of his gown and shows him a stone which he has in his hand, and with which he swears he will kill the attendant and supervisor. His friend takes him by the arm, and by his dumb signs tries to calm him, and arm in arm they walk the gallery together. Soon the supervisor comes in and goes into the same room. The parson's friend leaves him a moment; goes to the supervisor, and, although he has said that he would not speak for three months, he tells him that the parson is armed with a stone, and has sworn his death and destruction. "Got a stone, has he? He goes below immediately" and the dumb man returns and again is arm in arm with the maniac, walking as before. The door opens and four stout men enter. The parson knows their errand -- he stands to wait the onset. They advance, and he draws back his arm to give them a deadly blow with his weapon. His arm is again fast in the vice-like grasp of his friend Belzebub, who had seized it before with the knife. He is seized and carried below, and again put into the maniac harness, and, as before, remains a few weeks, then rises to the upper regions, remains a few months, recovers, and again returns to his family a rational man; calm, composed, and a Christian.

Visitor, will you look again through that window into the back yard? You see that small brick building at the right? That is called the lodge; but the patients call it the devil's howling hole, hell's kitchen, purgatory, the furnace of hell, the oven. Well, it was in there that Mr. Eastman was roasted alive. But look, do you see that large stout man coming out of the door? do you see how wild and fierce he looks? Stop, he sees a couple of strange faces; visitors who have come from the country, and have gone into the back yard instead of the front door. The old man seizes a club, and with lungs like a steam engine, and a voice like thunder, he gives a terrific yell, and starts for those two intruders upon his sacred territory. Do you see, they are young, and soon outstrip the maniac in the race. The attendant runs for the wild man, and brings him back to his tomb. The visitors have seen the "elephant," and old split foot himself would not have frightened them more; and when they come again, if they ever do, they will go round to the front door, walk in, ring the bell, and be waited upon by the officers like gentlemen if they wear fine cloth, and exhibit their cards or letters of introduction. Well, but what of the maniac? Oh he is "one of 'em, he is." His insanity is hereditary, in the family. His ancestors before him have been insane, and two of his sons have been at the hospital, and one of them, confined in an adjoining cell at the same time with his father. Their insanity is periodical; but the old man has occupied a room in that lodge the most of the time for two years. It is his home; his room has been sealed with hard pine plank to keep him from digging thro' the brick walls, which he will do by tearing his tin dipper to pieces, or with a nail or piece of iron hoop. But the father and his sons are well, and have returned to their homes, calm, sane and rational men.