much in Paris from my medical friends. As I had never visited a place
of the kind, I thought the opportunity too good to be lost; and so
proposed to my travelling companion (a gentleman with whom I had made
casual acquaintance a few days before) that we should turn aside, for
an hour or so, and look through the establishment. To this he
objected -- pleading haste in the first place, and, in the second, a
very usual horror at the sight of a lunatic. He begged me, however,
not to let any mere courtesy towards himself interfere with the
gratification of my curiosity, and said that he would ride on
leisurely, so that I might overtake him during the day, or, at all
events, during the next. As he bade me good-bye, I bethought me that
there might be some difficulty in obtaining access to the premises,
and mentioned my fears on this point. He replied that, in fact,
unless I had personal knowledge of the superintendent, Monsieur
Maillard, or some credential in the way of a letter, a difficulty
might be found to exist, as the regulations of these private
mad-houses were more rigid than the public hospital laws. For
himself, he added, he had, some years since, made the acquaintance of
Maillard, and would so far assist me as to ride up to the door and
introduce me; although his feelings on the subject of lunacy would
not permit of his entering the house.

I thanked him, and, turning from the main road, we entered a
grass-grown by-path, which, in half an hour, nearly lost itself in a
dense forest, clothing the base of a mountain. Through this dank and
gloomy wood we rode some two miles, when the Maison de Sante came in
view. It was a fantastic chateau, much dilapidated, and indeed
scarcely tenantable through age and neglect. Its aspect inspired me
with absolute dread, and, checking my horse, I half resolved to turn
back. I soon, however, grew ashamed of my weakness, and proceeded.