’ ‘Who was to know if you would find your place?’ countered Martha. Her two sticks were bare and brown, her snugged canvas drab, her brasses dull, her anchor mottled with rust. Sir John felt and looked several years younger. It was most amusing. The size and grandeur of the edifice, indeed, drew down the ridicule of several of the wits of the age: by one of whom—the facetious Tom Brown—it was said, "Bedlam is a pleasant place, and abounds with amusements; —the first of which is the building, so stately a fabric for persons wholly insensible of the beauty and use of it: the outside being a perfect mockery of the inside, and admitting of two amusing queries,—Whether the persons that ordered the building of it, or those that inhabit it, were the maddest? and, whether the name and thing be not as disagreeable as harp and harrow. It isn’t illusions—for us. ” “She is one of them,” Ennison said. . Of course he hadn't played the game wisely. “A joke! Sir John, if you had presented yourself here an hour ago we should have greeted you in pained silence.
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