The Staffordshire and Potteries Examiner. — 1881-04-30 (Stoke-on-Trent, Staffordshire, England)

MAD FANCY BALL.  Describing a visit to Colney Hatch Asylum, on the occasion of a fancy dress ball, the spec,al correspondent of the _Daily. News says the question suggested 'by the first glance at the great reception room was how much madder are they than other people—that is, other people who go to fancy balls ?' When the many guests present are quadrilling it merrily with the patients, it is asked "Which are the mad ones?" By degrees it is made out, as the two hundred couples are walking round the room after their dance, that some are dressed in much richer materials than others, and the conclusion is hastily arrived at that ri3hness of clothing is in proportion to mental soundness. There is another sign, too, which proves a distinguishing mark between mad and sane. The former are merry over their dancing, their lemonade and ginger beer. Hearty laughter is heard among some of the groups, and there is no longer doubt of their unfortunate condition. As the Lancers succeeds a round dance, some of the little peculiarities of the patients assert themselves. One odd little woman, with that queer kind of " low-comedy " face seen among the strolling dancers in the " tourist " parts of Ireland, is playing lustily on a tambourine just in front of the orchestra—she has a history sad and sorrowful enough. Stolen when a child, she acquired her musical accomplishments among the gipsies, and was only found by her own people when a hard life and perpetual exposure to heats and colds had left her what she is. The mad people are not difficult of access. Another middle-aged woman, attired either as Meg Merrilies or Helen Macgregor, is very communicative as to her woes, which appear to turn mainly on the absence of alcoholic stimulants from the dietary of Colney Hatch, and a suspicion of murder supposed by herself to hang over certain or uncertain members of her family. Among the poor people at the County Asylum may be found many graceful dancers, some of whom have practised for the ballet and others in shows at fairs, in circuses, and casinos. Some of the dresses are very remarkable in the neatness with which they are gotten up, as for instance that of the officer of infantiy in his red tunic, and forage cap instead of pikelhaube. The wearer is a tall, well-grown man, with wellbred look and manner, and is greatly liked by Mr. Skaife and other officers. He was a few years ago a draughtsman, working regularly for a famous illustrated newspaper; but at last he succumbed to a mania which must inflict terrible agony upon him. He is hunted by the police for some crime of which he is entirely innocent. They are ever on his track, and even at this festive moment, while the music is ringing in his ears and his feet move swiftly, he is inwardly certain that the sleepless eye of his persecutors is upon him, and that at the first opportunity he will be seized and carried away. Another fine stalwart patient, also a good dancer and a pleasant fellow, is quite certain that he was at Lord Beaconsfield's funeral. "As the legitimate representative of the Queen, of course I was there,' he says with an air of conviction which takes one's breath away. One of the best imagined dresses is that of a King of Hearts, a white suit with red hearts all over it and a Phrygian cap to match. The patient wearing it is exactly suited to the costume. He is extremely short, has great laughing eyes, and a mouth from ear to ear. His face should have been his fortune on the comic stage. Another comical youth is the little plump lad with his face corked all over, who is diverting the ladies and gentlemen on the dais with his innocent attempts to promote the hilarity of the evening. While the dance is going on it is possible to snatch a moment to look at the inhabitants of the two galleries at the lower end of the room. These are filled with patients who, by reason of age, sickness, or other infirmity, are adjudged unfit to take part in the celebration going on below. The poor areatures sit in gloomy stolidity, fixed and wooden, and form a saddening contrast to the really mad people, those afflicted with mania—that is, who, if their sufferings be acute at times, have at least their moments of partial lucidity. Such a moment they are having now, and are rejoicing like happy children in the entertainment provided for them by wise and loving heads and hearts and hands