This remark struck me forcibly, and on reflection I found that _I
never knew nor heard of one_, though I have once or twice heard a
woman make a _single detached_ pun, as I have known a hen to crow.
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 the
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 serious,
as if something had happened.
“The town has entered a complaint against the Asylum as a gambling
establishment,” he said to my friend, the Director.
“What do you mean?” said my friend.
“Why, they complain that there’s a _lot o’ rye_ on the premises,”
he answered, pointing to a field of that grain—and hobbled away,
his shoulders shaking with laughter, as he went.
On entering the main building, we saw the Rules and Regulations for
the Asylum conspicuously posted up. I made a few extracts which may
be interesting: