abs cbn live streaming tv philippines online free it, but after awhile I let them persuade me, as I had right along intended to do. So saying, I pulled down my veil and secretly hoped the reporters would be detained elsewhere until I was sent to the asylum. Then she said that I had a Southern accent. I saw some patients eagerly and caressingly lift a nut or a colored leaf that had fallen on the 10 days in a madhouse read online free. Being dressed as were the attendants of the day, I knew they were 10 days in a madhouse read online free.">
Book Publisher:. If I did get into the asylum, which I hardly hoped to do, I had no idea that my experiences would contain aught else than a simple tale of life in an asylum.
The many stories I had read of abuses in such institutions I had regarded as wildly exaggerated or else romances, yet there was a latent desire to know positively. I shuddered to think how completely the insane were in the power of their keepers, and how one could weep and plead for release, and all of no avail, if the keepers were so minded. I do not know, he replied, but we will get you out if we have to tell who you are, and for what purpose you feigned insanity-only get in.
I had little belief in my ability to deceive the insanity experts, and I think my editor had less. All the preliminary preparations for my ordeal were left to be planned by myself. Only one thing was decided upon, namely, that I should pass under the pseudonym of Nellie Brown, the initials of which would agree with my own name and my linen, so that there would be no difficulty in keeping track of my movements and assisting me out of any difficulties or dangers I might get into.
There were ways of getting into the insane ward, but I did not know them. I might adopt one of two courses. Either I could feign insanity at the house of friends, and get myself committed on the decision of two competent physicians, or I could go to my goal by way of the police courts.
Ten Days in a Madhouse. Stream audiobook and download chapters. Audiobook downloads. Search by: Title, Author or Keyword. I passed through the little paved yard to the entrance of the Home. I pulled the bell, which sounded loud enough for a church chime, and nervously awaited the opening of the door to the Home, which I intended should ere long cast me forth and out upon the charity of the police. The door was thrown back with a vengeance, and a short, yellow-haired girl of some thirteen summers stood before me.
Go to the back parlor," answered the girl, in a loud voice, without one change in her peculiarly matured face. I followed these not overkind or polite instructions and found myself in a dark, uncomfortable back-parlor. There I awaited the arrival of my hostess.
I had been seated some twenty minutes at the least, when a slender woman, clad in a plain, dark dress entered and, stopping before me, ejaculated inquiringly, "Well? Left to amuse myself as best I could, I took a survey of my surroundings.
They were not cheerful, to say the least. A wardrobe, desk, book-case, organ, and several chairs completed the furnishment of the room, into which the daylight barely came. By the time I had become familiar with my quarters a bell, which rivaled the door-bell in its loudness, began clanging in the basement, and simultaneously women went trooping down-stairs from all parts of the house. I imagined, from the obvious signs, that dinner was served, but as no one had said anything to me I made no effort to follow in the hungry train.
Yet I did wish that some one would invite me down. It always produces such a lonely, homesick feeling to know others are eating, and we haven't a chance, even if we are not hungry.
I was glad when the assistant matron came up and asked me if I did not want something to eat. I replied that I did, and then I asked her what her name was. Stanard, she said, and I immediately wrote it down in a notebook I had taken with me for the purpose of making memoranda, and in which I had written several pages of utter nonsense for inquisitive scientists. Thus equipped I awaited developments.
But my dinner—well, I followed Mrs. Stanard down the uncarpeted stairs into the basement; where a large number of women were eating. She found room for me at a table with three other women. The short-haired slavey who had opened the door now put in an appearance as waiter. Placing her arms akimbo and staring me out of countenance she said:. It was not very long before she returned with what I had ordered on a large, badly battered tray, which she banged down before me.
I began my simple meal. It was not very enticing, so while making a feint of eating I watched the others. I have often moralized on the repulsive form charity always assumes! Here was a home for deserving women and yet what a mockery the name was.
The floor was bare, and the little wooden tables were sublimely ignorant of such modern beautifiers as varnish, polish and table-covers. It is useless to talk about the cheapness of linen and its effect on civilization. Yet these honest workers, the most deserving of women, are asked to call this spot of bareness—home.
When the meal was finished each woman went to the desk in the corner, where Mrs. Stanard sat, and paid her bill. I was given a much-used, and abused, red check, by the original piece of humanity in shape of my waitress. My bill was about thirty cents. After dinner I went up-stairs and resumed my former place in the back parlor. I was quite cold and uncomfortable, and had fully made up my mind that I could not endure that sort of business long, so the sooner I assumed my insane points the sooner I would be released from enforced idleness.
I listlessly watched the women in the front parlor, where all sat except myself. One did nothing but read and scratch her head and occasionally call out mildly, "Georgie," without lifting her eyes from her book. He did everything that was rude and unmannerly, I thought, and the mother never said a word unless she heard some one else yell at him.
Another woman always kept going to sleep and waking herself up with her own snoring. I really felt wickedly thankful it was only herself she awakened. The majority of the women sat there doing nothing, but there were a few who made lace and knitted unceasingly. The enormous door-bell seemed to be going all the time, and so did the short-haired girl.
The latter was, besides, one of those girls who sing all the time snatches of all the songs and hymns that have been composed for the last fifty years.
There is such a thing as martyrdom in these days. The ringing of the bell brought more people who wanted shelter for the night. Excepting one woman, who was from the country on a day's shopping expedition, they were working women, some of them with children. It tells the story of a great trouble.
We all have our troubles, but we get over them in good time. What kind of work are you trying to get? I put my handkerchief up to my face to hide a smile, and replied in a muffled tone, "I never worked; I don't know how. I am so afraid of them. We do not keep crazy people here. I again used my handkerchief to hide a smile, as I thought that before morning she would at least think she had one crazy person among her flock.
There are so many crazy people about, and one can never tell what they will do. Then there are so many murders committed, and the police never catch the murderers," and I finished with a sob that would have broken up an audience of blase critics.
She gave a sudden and convulsive start, and I knew my first stroke had gone home. It was amusing to see what a remarkably short time it took her to get up from her chair and to whisper hurriedly: "I'll come back to talk with you after a while. When the supper-bell rang I went along with the others to the basement and partook of the evening meal, which was similar to dinner, except that there was a smaller bill of fare and more people, the women who are employed outside during the day having returned.
After the evening meal we all adjourned to the parlors, where all sat, or stood, as there were not chairs enough to go round. It was a wretchedly lonely evening, and the light which fell from the solitary gas jet in the parlor, and oil-lamp the hall, helped to envelop us in a dusky hue and dye our spirits navy blue. I felt it would not require many inundations of this atmosphere to make me a fit subject for the place I was striving to reach.
I watched two women, who seemed of all the crowd to be the most sociable, and I selected them as the ones to work out my salvation, or, more properly speaking, my condemnation and conviction. Excusing myself and saying that I felt lonely, I asked if I might join their company. They graciously consented, so with my hat and gloves on, which no one had asked me to lay aside, I sat down and listened to the rather wearisome conversation, in which I took no part, merely keeping up my sad look, saying "Yes," or "No," or "I can't say," to their observations.
Several times I told them I thought everybody in the house looked crazy, but they were slow to catch on to my very original remark. One said her name was Mrs. King and that she was a Southern woman. Then she said that I had a Southern accent. She asked me bluntly if I did not really come from the South. I said "Yes. For a moment I forgot my role of assumed insanity, and told her the correct hour of departure. She then asked me what work I was going to do, or if I had ever done any.
I replied that I thought it very sad that there were so many working people in the world. She said in reply that she had been unfortunate and had come to New York, where she had worked at correcting proofs on a medical dictionary for some time, but that her health had given way under the task, and that she was now going to Boston again.
When the maid came to tell us to go to bed I remarked that I was afraid, and again ventured the assertion that all the women in the house seemed to be crazy. The nurse insisted on my going to bed. I asked if I could not sit on the stairs, but she said, decisively: "No; for every one in the house would think you were crazy.
Here I must introduce a new personage by name into my narrative. It is the woman who had been a proofreader, and was about to return to Boston. She was a Mrs. Caine, who was as courageous as she was good-hearted.
She came into my room, and sat and talked with me a long time, taking down my hair with gentle ways. She tried to persuade me to undress and go to bed, but I stubbornly refused to do so. During this time a number of the inmates of the house had gathered around us.
They expressed themselves in various ways. They were all in a terrible and real state of fright. No one wanted to be responsible for me, and the woman who was to occupy the room with me declared that she would not stay with that "crazy woman" for all the money of the Vanderbilts.
It was then that Mrs. Caine said she would stay with me. I told her I would like to have her do so. So she was left with me. She didn't undress, but lay down on the bed, watchful of my movements. She tried to induce me to lie down, but I was afraid to do this. I knew that if I once gave way I should fall asleep and dream as pleasantly and peacefully as a child. I should, to use a slang expression, be liable to "give myself dead away.
My poor companion was put into a wretched state of unhappiness. Every few moments she would rise up to look at me. She told me that my eyes shone terribly brightly and then began to question me, asking me where I had lived, how long I had been in New York, what I had been doing, and many things besides.
To all her questionings I had but one response—I told her that I had forgotten everything, that ever since my headache had come on I could not remember. Poor soul! How cruelly I tortured her, and what a kind heart she had!
But how I tortured all of them! One of them dreamed of me—as a nightmare. After I had been in the room an hour or so, I was myself startled by hearing a woman screaming in the next room. I began to imagine that I was really in an insane asylum. Caine woke up, looked around, frightened, and listened. She then went out and into the next room, and I heard her asking another woman some questions. When she came back she told me that the woman had had a hideous nightmare.
She had been dreaming of me. She had seen me, she said, rushing at her with a knife in my hand, with the intention of killing her. In trying to escape me she had fortunately been able to scream, and so to awaken herself and scare off her nightmare. Then Mrs. Caine got into bed again, considerably agitated, but very sleepy. I was weary, too, but I had braced myself up to the work, and was determined to keep awake all night so as to carry on my work of impersonation to a successful end in the morning.
I heard midnight. I had yet six hours to wait for daylight. The time passed with excruciating slowness. Minutes appeared hours. The noises in the house and on the avenue ceased.
Fearing that sleep would coax me into its grasp, I commenced to review my life. How strange it all seems! One incident, if never so trifling, is but a link more to chain us to our unchangeable fate. I began at the beginning, and lived again the story of my life. Old friends were recalled with a pleasurable thrill; old enmities, old heartaches, old joys were once again present. The turned-down pages of my life were turned up, and the past was present. When it was completed, I turned my thoughts bravely to the future, wondering, first, what the next day would bring forth, then making plans for the carrying out of my project.
I wondered if I should be able to pass over the river to the goal of my strange ambition, to become eventually an inmate of the halls inhabited by my mentally wrecked sisters. And then, once in, what would be my experience? And after? How to get out? I said, they will get me out.
I looked out toward the window and hailed with joy the slight shimmer of dawn. The light grew strong and gray, but the silence was strikingly still. My companion slept. I had still an hour or two to pass over. Fortunately I found some employment for my mental activity.
Robert Bruce in his captivity had won confidence in the future, and passed his time as pleasantly as possible under the circumstances, by watching the celebrated spider building his web. I had less noble vermin to interest me. Yet I believe I made some valuable discoveries in natural history. I was about to drop off to sleep in spite of myself when I was suddenly startled to wakefulness.
I thought I heard something crawl and fall down upon the counterpane with an almost inaudible thud. I had the opportunity of studying these interesting animals very thoroughly. They had evidently come for breakfast, and were not a little disappointed to find that their principal plat was not there.
They scampered up and down the pillow, came together, seemed to hold interesting converse, and acted in every way as if they were puzzled by the absence of an appetizing breakfast. After one consultation of some length they finally disappeared, seeking victims elsewhere, and leaving me to pass the long minutes by giving my attention to cockroaches, whose size and agility were something of a surprise to me.
My room companion had been sound asleep for a long time, but she now woke up, and expressed surprise at seeing me still awake and apparently as lively as a cricket. She was as sympathetic as ever. She came to me and took my hands and tried her best to console me, and asked me if I did not want to go home. She kept me up-stairs until nearly everybody was out of the house, and then took me down to the basement for coffee and a bun.
After that, partaken in silence, I went back to my room, where I sat down, moping. Caine grew more and more anxious. Where are they? I want them. She believed that I was insane. Yet I forgive her. It is only after one is in trouble that one realizes how little sympathy and kindness there are in the world.
The women in the Home who were not afraid of me had wanted to have some amusement at my expense, and so they had bothered me with questions and remarks that had I been insane would have been cruel and inhumane. Only this one woman among the crowd, pretty and delicate Mrs. Caine, displayed true womanly feeling. She compelled the others to cease teasing me and took the bed of the woman who refused to sleep near me.
She protested against the suggestion to leave me alone and to have me locked up for the night so that I could harm no one. She insisted on remaining with me in order to administer aid should I need it.
She smoothed my hair and bathed my brow and talked as soothingly to me as a mother would do to an ailing child. By every means she tried to have me go to bed and rest, and when it drew toward morning she got up and wrapped a blanket around me for fear I might get cold; then she kissed me on the brow and whispered, compassionately:.
The problem lies not with him, but with Hollywood. From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia. Schanz Susan Goforth as Mrs.
Stanard Katie Singleton as Mrs. Caine Everette Scott Ortiz as Dr. Psychiatric hospitals -- New York State -- History -- 19th century. Psychiatric hospital care -- New York State -- History -- 19th century. Women patients -- New York State -- History -- 19th century.Description : 10 days in a madhouse read online free book comprised Nellie Bly's reportage for the New York World in while on an undercover assignment in which she feigned insanity to investigate reports of brutality and neglect at the Women's Lunatic Asylum on Blackwell's Island. Home page url. Download or read it online for free here: Download link multiple formats. Download mirrors: Mirror 1 Mirror 2 Maduouse 3 Rea 4. Darkest Peru by Robert Cooke - Smashwords A struggling actor embarks on an unwise adventure into the Peruvian wilderness. His need to escape 'real life' sees him negotiating the towering Andes and sprawling Amazon basin, fending for himself in a land growing more dangerous by the minute. He was maxhouse for his 10 days in a madhouse read online free and explorations cake mania 2 free online game Asia and Africa as well as his extraordinary knowledge of languages and cultures. Michelangelo burst like a thunder-storm into the heavy, overcharged sky of Florence. He captured painting, sculpture, architecture and poetry. The edition containing my story long since ran out, and I have been prevailed upon to allow it to be published in book form, to satisfy the hundreds who are yet. Free kindle book and epub digitized and proofread by Project Gutenberg. Ten Days in a Mad-House; or, Nellie Bly's Experience on Blackwell's Island. by Bly. Book Cover Release Date, Jul 10, Read this book online: HTML. This book is available for free download in a number of formats - including epub, pdf, azw, mobi and more. You can also read the full text online using our. Ten Days in a Mad-House is a book written by newspaper reporter Nellie Bly and published by Ian L. Munro in New York City in Read Ten Days in a Mad-House by Nellie Bly for free with a 30 day free trial. Read unlimited* books and audiobooks on the web, iPad, iPhone and Android. 10 Days in a Madhouse. AuthorNellie Bly. Rating: 0 out of 5 stars(0/5). Save Nellie Bly's "Ten Days in a Madhouse" Book version of Bly's two-part series in the New York World describing her 10 days File(s) (e.g., scanned article PDF). 10 Days In A Madhouse Rentals include 30 days to start watching this video and 48 hours to finish once started. Format: Prime Video (streaming online video) I strongly encourage all women to read the book. FREE 2-hour Delivery. Ten Days in a Madhouse by Nellie Bly. Free audio book that you can download in mp3, iPod and iTunes format for your portable audio player. Audio previews. Ten Days in a Mad-House - Kindle edition by Bly, Nellie. Download it once and read it Kindle $ Read with Our Free App; Audible Logo Audiobook $ Ten Days in a Mad-House by Nellie Bly - free book at E-Books Directory. You can download the book or read it online. It is made freely available by its author. I had yet six hours to wait for daylight. The way people were treated in asylums was horrible and Nellie Bly's article helped get more money for better food and things for Blackwell's Island Asylum. I did not enter the ambulance without protest. It was very kind of her, but rather provoking under the circumstances. How could I hope to pass these doctors and convince them that I was crazy? Trivia About Ten Days in a Mad But thanks to Nellie Bly, the horrific "diagnosis" and "treatment" of the unfortunate women who found themselves confined to this facility were exposed by Bly's infiltration there. The abuse of power and the conditions that these women suffered makes me think about how people who can do little for themselves are treated by others in society. View all 4 comments. Then there would be some chance of escape. Her hair was short and had mostly come out, and she asked that the crazy woman be made to rub more gently, but Miss Grupe said:. Several times I told them I thought everybody in the house looked crazy, but they were slow to catch on to my very original remark.