Diary Written in the Provincial Lunatic Asylum | Page 6

voices; they talked with me even as they did with John on the Isle of
Patmos, when they said to him, "Worship God who sent me."
I was very much alone, engaged in writing a book on the laws of health.
My desire to write increased; I became so absorbed with my work I
forgot to eat, and, after a day or two, I seemed to think I had done some
wrong. The angel voices whispered me that I must fast and pray; I
know I had plenty of food in my closet, but I don't remember eating
any more. I fasted eight days, and felt comfortable and happy most of
the time. I sang to myself, "O death, where is thy sting, where is thy

victory, boasting grave." I wept for my own sins, and wished to die, the
world to save. I was trying to perform some ancient right or vow, one
day, and my sons came in. I ordered them away, but they would not go.
They said they would bring me home, for Lewis, who was living with
me near Boston, sent for my son, T. M. Pengilly, who is proprietor of a
drug store in St. John. I suppose he discovered I was fasting, and saw
me failing so fast he telegraphed to Tom to come to his assistance. I
remember I kissed him when he came, asked him what he came for,
and bade him leave me. I know now how unreasonable that was, for we
had no other room but Lewis' bed-room, and in it there was no fire. We
had rented rooms, as Lewis took his meals at a boarding-house near.
Poor boys, they went in and out; it seemed to me they did not eat or
sleep for some days; I thought they were as crazy as I was in the cars.
They brought Dr. Hunter to see me. I had been acquainted with him
some time previous. I told him I was sorry they had brought him to see
me, for I needed no physicians, I only needed to fast and pray. "I know
you are a good man, Dr. Hunter, but you need not come to see me again;
I will be all right in time; God and His angels will keep me always."
These were my words to him; I know not what prompted me; I suppose
it was my insanity. I think I told them to nail up the doors and leave me
there till summer. That was the last week of October. My poor boys,
how tried and worried they must have been. They watched me night
and day alternately. I told them I had not talked with them enough of
my own religion. I begged Tom to read the Bible and kneel and pray,
but he would not; I think he fell asleep in my rocking-chair (how often
I have wished for that rocking-chair since I came here).
On Sunday morning I heard them say, "We will go home in the first
train." Lewis went out to see about it, and I told Tom I wished to take
the sacrament, and he should give it to me, for he would yet be bishop
of St. John--"St. Thomas" he should be called. I can but laugh when I
think of it now, but it was very real to me then. I had been a member--a
communicant--of St. James' Church, Episcopal, some years; I had taken
my boys to Sunday School, to receive that religious instruction which I
was not qualified to give. They had accompanied me to church, always,
but I felt as if I had not spoken to them on religious subjects as I ought

to have done.
It is fourteen years, I think, since I was christened in St. James' Church,
by Rev. William Armstrong, whose voice I always loved to hear in the
beautiful service of our church. I was confirmed by Bishop John
Fredricton, in Trinity Church. I well remember the pressure of that
reverend hand upon my head, and the impressive words of his address
to us who were that day received into the church--"Let your inner life
be as good or better than your outer life, if you would be worthily
known as His children." He desired the young men in particular to take
up some useful study, to occupy their leisure hours--something outside
of their every-day business of life. What better words could have been
said; I would that the young men of the present day should often hear
those words and accept them as a rule of their life. I float away from
thoughts of my insanity to the days when I was at home going to
church with my children. I must return to my subject.
They brought the