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Various

"The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 07, No. 39, January, 1861"


On arriving at the south gate of the Asylum grounds, I was about to
ring, but my friend held my arm and begged me to rap with my stick,
which I did. An old man with a very comical face presently opened the
gate and put out his head.
"So you prefer _Cane_ to _A bell_, do you?" he said,--and began
chuckling and coughing at a great rate.
My friend winked at me.
"You're here still, Old Joe, I see," he said to the old man.
"Yes, yes,--and it's very odd, considering how often I've _bolted_,
nights."
He then threw open the double gates for us to ride through.
"Now," said the old man, as he pulled the gates after us, "you've had a
long journey."
"Why, how is that, Old Joe?" said my friend.
"Don't you see?" he answered; "there's the _East hinges_ on one side of
the gate, and there's the West hinges_ on t'other side,--haw! haw! haw!"
We had no sooner got into the yard than a feeble little gentleman, with
a remarkably bright eye, came up to us, looking very seriously, as if
something had happened.


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