The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1885-11-07
written at my dictation. But they wero never

sent
AS the days went by and heard nothing from
my friends | became very uneasy. had no
idea how dead / was thought to be! My recovery
was rapid, thanks to good blood and a strong
constitution. The doctor and | became great
friends de was young man, only few years
older than myself. but had already made repu-
tation IN his speciality, the nature of which ala
not know for some time. He had a strong face,
which would have been handsome had the clean
cut lines. which his other features Indicated
were continued in his chin. not been blurred by
the attempt at full beard that all young
physicians seem to think demanded by the dig
nifty of their profession. | wonder if anybody
is ever deceived thereby into thinking them
more mature and trustworthy! To my friend,
the doctor. with his lively Saxon complexion
and youthful eyes, his blonde and rather sparse
and struggling beard gave the appearance of a
lad in his teens, Incorporating in borrowed hair.
The doctor used to spend considerable time
with me, and we talked on great variety of
subjects, in which we found we had mutual
interest He a most sympathic companion,
and grew very fond of him. Sometimes how
ever, he would try to draw my attention in GER
tain directions. and would remain unresponsive.
On the other hand, he would reply evasively to
much of what l said concerning myself when an
answer might be expected-not hesltatlngly, but
with the readiness of one trained to evasion. He
also had great adrotness in changing the SUB
ject, after drawing me away from matters which
| seemed determined to have explained, with
skill worthy dplomatist.
One day, after the doctor had left me, found
that note book had slipped from one of the
side pockets OF his sack coat while he was care
lessy lounglng in an arm chair, and it had fallen
unobserved on a soft rug 1 secured it, and,
although had always respected the privacy OF
such things, there had evidently been so much
withheld from me which l desired to know, that
felt justified in examining it. found
it full os memoranda concerning
his patients. There was much about
one named Henry Leverett 1t was strange
case and the circumstances were minutely not
ed 1t was remarked, with copious professional
comments, that there had been no recurrence OF
epilepsy. Another notable circumst ance was
that his fancied Identities had changed every
three days, as formerly. but that he chung with
remarkable perslstency to his notion that he was
named George Henderson, carrying out the
character with striking plausibility. Many
| things were said that were highly compliment
tarv TO the patients intelligence and personal
qualities, and the Doctor noted with some
prise the sympathy which he felt, in spite of
himself in the imagined msfortunes of his pa
tienr SO consistently were they clothed with the
interest Of seeming reality. good novelist
was spoilt when that mind was shattered, 1t was
remarked.
1t was all clear to me now. The hospital was
not one for the cure of mere bodily ills, but for
the healing of minds diseased. Somehow had
been unwittlngly substituted for my double, who
had slipped away unobserved when everybodys
attention was momentarily diverted by the
crash and ensuing confusion. They were just
taking him away to private asylum as l after
wards learned and my fall was ascrbed to one
of the poor fellows epileptic attacks.
This accounted for the doctors evasionS, and
the mysterious circumstances which | had OBJ
served. My first impulse to call for the
doctor, show him his memoranda. and explain
to him the mistake. But reflection showed the
futity of such course. | would not be be-
lieved, any more than my supposed
nance about my double l decided to simulate
cure, adopting the personality of Henry
Leverett, and thereby effect my release. The
doctor soon came back some slight pretext,
but really In search of his memoranda book
which he had missed. On coming to my de-
cision had carefully replaced the book where 1
found it, and the Doctor seemed relieved when
his quick glance saw it, apparently, undisturbed
just where it had dropped. He seated himself.
and at a favorable moment picked up the book
unobserved as he thought After little chat
he left me again.
The memorandum book had given me many
points about young Leverett and proceeded to
study up what | could from his letters and his
other effects which had been brought to the
asylum to make his surroundings as natural and
wonted as possible. This studying of new part
that l devoted myself most perseveringly
to the task. l sent for the back
numbers of the daily papers, protesting a desire
to read up on the news. l examined very care
fully those of the dates corresponding to my &C
cident The papers which | afterwards found
with the story about young Leverett. alluded to
in the beginning of this account, were withheld
on the pretext that they were not to be had, the
editions having been exhausted by reason OF
some exciting occurrence. L found the items
about my supposed suicide, which accounted for
the failure of my friends to search for me.
Among Leveretts letters were many from his
| chum, Frederic Dunster Marcy, written from
Europe the previous summer. full of illusions to
college matters, and lively descriptions of his
| experiences abroad. L primed myself with
these and began the assumption of my new
| role by expressing a desire to see Marcy.
He was at his fathers summer home
| on the Beverly shore, keeping quiet and getting
| ready to enter the law school in the autumn. He
| hurried up on the first train when sent for. He
| arrived full of sympathy and concern, but find
| ing his most intimate friend. as he thought look
ing so we'll and like his old self, he speedily be-
| came at ease, and we had long and confidential
| talk l ptied the poor fellow that he should be
deceived so, for l saw how extremely fond he
| had been of Leverett, and it seemed cruel inn
| position to palm myself off for man who was
| really dead was indeed at first little nervous
| over the encounter with one whom had never
| seen before, but the fact that 1 should
| be so Enthusiastically believed to be another
| and the anticipation of the ultimate
| sequences, so encouraged me that I
| entered upon the new part with conf
| dence. played it with vivacity and assurance
| though sense of the tragedy underlying it ALL
and the pathos of the encounter with Leveretts
friend, inspired me with a genuine and tender
| regard for him, giving my words sincerity
| which they would not otherwise have had. | led
| our talk to things which Marcy had written
about from Europe; inquired about his parents,
and also about various college friends, whom
| mentioned by name. AS l guided the converse
| ton no slips were made though now and then
| things were spoken Of which | did not under
stand.
| When Marcy went away. in the best of spirits,
he promised to come again speedily and send
| some of the other fellows. The doctor was highly
gratifed the turn of affairs. ignored George
| Henderson now, and that episode seemed to have
passed into oblivion. Henry Leverett was him
self again; a little while longer and he would be
| completely cured.
| One day the doctor asked me to take drive
with him. My hurts were about healed, the
| only trace thereof being a scar on my temple
| We went in an open carriage mark of the
/ doctors confidence in my recoverv We drove