A pretty young Hebrew woman spoke so little English I could not get her story except as told by the nurses. They said her name is Sarah Fishbaum, and that her husband put her in the asylum because she had a fondness for other men than himself. Granting that Sarah was insane, and about men, let me tell you how the nurses tried to cure(?) her. They would call her up and say:
“Sarah, wouldn’t you like to have a nice young man?”
“Oh, yes; a young man is all right,” Sarah would reply in her few English words.
“Well, Sarah, wouldn’t you like us to speak a good word to some of the doctors for you? Wouldn’t you like to have one of the doctors?”
And then they would ask her which doctor she preferred, and advise her to make advances to him when he visited the hall, and so on.
I had been watching and talking with a fair-complexioned woman for several days, and I was at a loss to see why she had been sent there, she was so sane.
“Why did you come here?” I asked her one day, after we had indulged in a long conversation.
“I was sick,” she replied.
“Are you sick mentally?” I urged.
“Oh, no; what gave you such an idea? I had been overworking myself, and I broke down. Having some family trouble, and being penniless and nowhere to go, I applied to the commissioners to be sent to the poorhouse until I would be able to go to work.”
“But they do not send poor people here unless they are insane,” I said. “Don’t you know there are only insane women, or those supposed to be so, sent here?”
“I knew after I got here that the majority of these women were insane, but then I believed them when they told me this was the place they sent all the poor who applied for aid as I had done.”
“How have you been treated?” I asked. “Well, so
