A Tramp Through the Bret Harte Country
By Thomas Dykes Beasley Author of "The Coming of Portola" With A Foreward by Charles A. Murdock Above the pines the moon was slowly drifting, The river sang below; The dim Sierras, far beyond, uplifting Their minarets of snow. - Dickens in Camp.
Of those discharged--two hundred and fifty-six in number--eighty-six
were of a nervous temperament, ninety-eight sanguine and seventy-two
bilious. In their habits, two hundred and thirty-four were social and
twenty-two solitary. Out of the whole number, two hundred and forty-four
used tobacco--only twelve being free from its use. Of these, one hundred
and sixty had been constant and ninety-six periodical drinkers. Serious
affliction, being unfortunate in business, love matters, prosperity,
etc., were given as reasons for drinking by one hundred and two of the
patients. One hundred and twenty-two had intemperate parents or
ancestors. One hundred and forty were married men and one hundred and
sixteen single. Their occupations were varied. Merchants, fifty-eight;
clerks, thirty-five; lawyers, seventeen; book-keepers, sixteen;
manufacturers, eight; bankers and brokers, eight; machinists, seven;
mechanics, six; farmers, six; clergymen, five; editors and reporters,
five, etc.
In regard to some of the special influences brought to bear upon the
patients in this institution, we have the following. It is from a
communication (in answer to a letter of inquiry) received by us from Dr.
T.D. Crothers, formerly of Binghampton, but now superintendent of the
new Walnut Hill Asylum, at Hartford, Connecticut: "You have failed to do
us credit," he says, "in supposing that we do not use the spiritual
forces in our treatment. We depend largely upon them. We have a
regularly-appointed chaplain who lives in the building;, and gives his
entire time to the religious culture of the patients. Rev. Dr. Bush was
with us eight years. He died a few months ago. He was very devoted to
By Thomas Dykes Beasley Author of "The Coming of Portola" With A Foreward by Charles A. Murdock Above the pines the moon was slowly drifting, The river sang below; The dim Sierras, far beyond, uplifting Their minarets of snow. - Dickens in Camp.