and though I suffered less at these moments than my callers, my sum of
suffering was greater, for I was constantly anticipating these
unwelcome, but eventually beneficial, visitations.

Suppose my relatives and friends had held aloof during this apparently
hopeless period, what to-day would be my feelings toward them? Let
others answer. For over two years I considered all letters forgeries.
Yet the day came when I convinced myself of their genuineness and the
genuineness of the love of those who sent them. Perhaps persons who
have relatives among the more than a quarter of a million patients in
institutions in this country to-day will find some comfort in this
fact. To be on the safe and humane side, let every relative and friend
of persons so afflicted remember the Golden Rule, which has never been
suspended with respect to the insane. Go to see them, treat them
sanely, write to them, keep them informed about the home circle; let
not your devotion flag, nor accept any repulse.

The consensus now was that my condition was unlikely ever to improve,
and the question of my commitment to some institution where incurable
cases could be cared for came up for decision. While it was being
considered, my attendant kept assuring me that it would be unnecessary
to commit me to an institution if I would but show some improvement. So
he repeatedly suggested that I go to New Haven and spend a day at home.
At this time, it will be recalled, I was all but mute, so, being unable
to beguile me into speech, the attendant one morning laid out for my
use a more fashionable shirt than I usually wore, telling me to put it
on if I wished to make the visit. That day it took me an unusually long
time to dress, but in the end I put on the designated garment. Thus did
one part of my brain outwit another.