around the room on three sides, and on these those who could get a place lay down.  Among the number of “drunks” imprisoned with me were some of the worst and largest roughs of Jersey City, and these inhuman wretches, in the absence of the police, threatened; to take my life if I vomited again.  In the room adjoining ours a madman was confined, and I don’t think he ceased kicking and screaming a moment from Saturday night until Monday.  In the room just across the narrow hall, fronting ours, was an insane woman, who swore she had two souls, one of which was in hell!  She, too, kept up an incessant, piteous wailing, begging some one, ever and anon, with piercing screams, to bring back her lost soul!  Indianapolis is more civilized than Jersey City in respect to her prisons, but not with respect to her police.  And I am pretty sure that, as managed by its present superintendent, the unfortunate insane are in no other State cared for as they are in the Indiana asylum, and in no other State is the appropriation for running such a noble institution so beggarly as in ours.  I have visited other asylums, and am now an inmate of this, and I know whereof I speak.

The reader may have a faint idea of my sufferings while in the Jersey City calaboose when I tell him that the least noise pierced my brain like a knife.  I can in fancy and in my dreams hear the wild screams of that woman yet.  On Monday morning we were marched together to a room, and I saw that there were about fifty persons all told under arrest.  Among the number were many women, and I write with sorrow that their language was more profane and indecent than that of the men.  I stood as in a nightmare and heard the judge say from time to time—­“Five dollars”—­“Ten dollars”—­“Ten days”—­“Fifteen days”—­and so on.  I was so weak that I found it almost out of my power to stand up, and as the various sentences were pronounced my heart gave a quick throb of agony.  I felt that a sentence of ten days would kill me.  At this moment “John Dalton” was called.  I answered “Here, your Honor!” for Dalton was the name I had assumed.  My offense was read—­and the officer who arrested me volunteered the statement that I was not disorderly, and that I had not been creating any disturbance.  I felt called upon to plead my own case before the judge, and without waiting for his permission I began to speak.  It was life or death with me, and for ten minutes I spoke as I never spoke before and have never spoken since.  I pierced through his judicial armor and touched his pity, else the fear of being talked to death influenced him, to discharge me with the generous advice to leave the city.  Either way I was free, and was not long in getting across the river into New York, where I succeeded in finding General Macauley who saw that my toilet was once more arranged in a respectable manner.  That night we started for Boston, and arrived there on Tuesday morning.  I got drunk immediately and remained drunk until Saturday,