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"'This is a lively old bridal-trip, said I, 'dry falls an' a lunertic asylum. "'We'll try to make the rest of it better, said he. "But the next day wasn't no better. We staid in our room all day, for we didn't care to meet Mrs. Jackson an' her crazy brother, an' I'm sure we didn't want to see the mean creatures who kept the house.
An' now sit down an' quiet yourself, an' I'll tell you jus' how things is. So down we sits, an' says he, jus' as carm as a summer cloud, 'My dear, this is a lunertic asylum.
But I fell asleep at last, an' when I woke up, early in the mornin', the first thing I did was to feel for that lunertic. But she was gone!" "Gone?" cried Euphemia, who, with myself, had been listening most intently to Pomona's story. "Yes," continued Pomona, "she was gone. I give one jump out of bed and felt the gases, but they was all right. But she was gone, an' her clothes was gone.
I knowed you had read lots o' books about knights and princes an' bloody towers, an' that you knowed all about them things, but I didn't suppose you did know how them same things looked in these days, an' a lunertic asylum was the only place where you could see 'em.
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