tarium treatment has been more or less supplanted, or at least very definitely supplemented, by chemical ] therapy. Is this accurate in your opinion? What I mean . to say is, Doctor, please tell me in all sincerity, as one j human being to another, what is your opinion of chemi- | cal versus sanitarium therapy? Are you a partisan?”The doctor’s liver sick Indian face was blank as a i dealers.“Completely modem, as you can see,” he gestures , toward the room with the purple fingers of bad circu­lation. “Bath . . . water . . . flowers. The lot.” He fin­ished in Cockney English with a triumphant smirk.“I will write for you a letter.”“This letter? For the sanitarium?”. The doctor was speaking from a land of black rocks and great, iridescent brown lagoons. “The furniture . . . modem and comfortable. You find it so of course?”Carl could not see the sanitarium owing to a false front of green stucco topped by an intricate neon Sign dead and sinister against the sky, waiting for darkness. The sanitarium was evidently built on a great lime­stone promontory, over which flowering trees and vine tendrils broke in waves. The smell of flowers was heavy in the air.The commandante sat at a long wooden trestle under a vine trellis. He was doing absolutely nothing. He took the letter that Carl handed him and whispered through it, reading his lips with the left hand. He stuck the letter on a spike over a toilet. He began tran- scrbing from a ledger full of numbers. He wrote on and on.