This eBook was produced by Joel Erickson, Charles Franks, Juliet Sutherland
THE POORHOUSE WAIF
and
HIS DIVINE TEACHER
A True Story
BY ISABEL C. BYRUM
CONTENTS
Preface
I The Deserted Child
II Life in the Almshouse
III From Bad to Worse
IV Finding Friends
V Suffering for the Faults of Others
VI The Strange Visitor
VII Mysteries Unfolding
VIII Discovers the Existence of God
IX In the Home of a Witch
X A Contrast
XI Searching for Light
XII A Revelation on Eternity
XIII Puzzled about Prayer
XIV A Prayer-Meeting
XV A Star of Hope
XVI A Revelation on Tobacco
XVII The Camp-Meeting
XVIII Discovers the Existence of God's Word
XIX Devotion and Works
XX Called to Service
XXI Discovers God's Church
XXII Visits the Poorhouse
CHAPTER I
THE DESERTED CHILD
In this wide world the fondest and the best
Are the most tried, most troubled, and distressed.
--Crabbe.
"Why, woman, you are not thinking of leaving that child in this place for
us to look after, I hope! Our hands are more than full already. You say
that the child is scarcely a month old. How do you suppose that we could
give it a mother's care? More than this, the board that governs the affairs
of this institution has given us orders to accept no children under seven
months of age whose mothers are not with them. So if we should take the
child, as you say we must, you would be obliged to remain for that length
of time, at least, to help us care for it."
It was August Engler, steward of the county poorhouse in one of the eastern
counties of Pennsylvania during the sixties, that spoke these words, and
the circumstance that called forth the language was the appearance and
request of Mrs. Fischer, a well-dressed young widow. The latter had come to
the poorhouse with the intention of leaving her infant child. To this plan
Mr. Engler had objected unless she was willing to comply with the rules of
the place.
Mrs. Fischer, the mother of three little children, had recently heard that
her husband, a soldier in the Civil War, had been killed in battle, and
immediately she had gone into deep mourning as far as her dress was
concerned. The care of her family, however, she felt was too great a
responsibility to assume alone, and she had decided that the best thing for
her to do was to give her three small children away and that the sooner it
was done the better it would be. It was not hard to find homes for the girl
and the boy, but with baby Edwin it was different He was so young that
nobody cared to be bothered with him, and although she had tried hard, she
had not succeeded in finding him a home.
In her perplexity she rushed to the infirmary. So confident had she been
that it would be the duty of this institution to help her out that she had
not thought of asking the privilege of leaving her baby as a favor.
As steward and matron of the poorhouse, Mr. and Mrs. Engler did what they
could to keep things going smoothly and in order, but the work was too
large for them to handle it properly. At that early date no special place
except the poor farm had been provided for the simple and the insane; so it
was necessary to have several buildings, both large and small, to provide
for the needs of the people.
In the building that was known as the poorhouse proper was the main office.
It was here that Mrs. Fischer appeared. Several other rooms of importance
were also in this building, such as the dining-room and some
living-apartments, but the bakery and the kitchen were in a building just a
short distance away. And there was still another building, a large brick
structure close to the main building. This was used for the confinement of
such persons as the insane and the unmanageable, and the doors and windows,
as well as the transoms, on both the inside and the outside were secured by
iron bars. From these dark prison walls many strange and hideous sounds
could be heard at any hour of the night or day.
In the entire establishment the furnishings were scant and poor, and in
every way things were vastly different from what we find them in the
poorhouse of our modern times. In the main office, where Mr. Engler
transacted his business affairs and entertained strangers, there was simply
a rude desk, a homemade couch without springs or mattress, and a few
rush-bottomed chairs. For years the walls had been growing darker because
of the constant use of tobacco by those who frequented the place.
Had it not been that the steward and the matron of this home for the poor
were capable persons and able to get considerable help out of the inmates,
they could not have managed to keep up the place at all. To conceal the
fact that the poorhouse was a miserable place to stay would have been an
impossibility.
To the selfish mother it mattered not that the office within which she was
standing was an index to the entire building. Regardless of consequences,
she cared only to be freed from her burdens and responsibilities as a
mother. So the answer that Mr. Engler gave her only stirred within her evil
heart the anger and cruelty already there, and with a fiendish glare of
derision toward the one who was endeavoring to do his duty, she took a step
toward the hard couch and threw, rather than laid, the bundle she held in
her arms upon it. An instant later she disappeared through the open
doorway. When Mr. Engler recovered from his surprize and went to look for
her, he saw her running up the road as fast as her feet would carry her.
Realizing in part the seriousness of the situation, Mr. Engler went at once
to notify his wife, and, leaving her in charge of the little one, he, with
others, set out to find the runaway mother. The task proved to be
difficult. Owing to the fact that the woman was a stranger in the community
and had gotten the advantage of her pursuers, it took some time to find
her, but at last she was returned to the infirmary and was given orders by
the authorities not to repeat the offense of deserting her baby.
As the feeble-minded people at the almshouse sometimes caused trouble by
running off, large balls of iron had been provided to be chained to the
feet of such persons. Thus their progress would be hindered and their
escape be less probable. Still they could take a part in the work that had
been assigned them about the place. It was thought best to use this method
of securing Mrs. Fischer. When the chains were fastened about her ankles,
one of the authorities who had helped in capturing her remarked, "I guess
now you'll not raise your feet for a while as nimbly as you have been doing
of late."
That evening Mr. Engler said to his wife: "It's the strangest case I ever
heard tell of. Surely that woman has made the future of her infant son dark
and uncertain. It doesn't seem possible that any mother could treat her
child in such a shameful manner. I'm sure if that woman could get loose
this minute she'd run away again, and we'll have to watch her closely while
she's here."
"Did you see the baby's large brown eyes?" Mrs. Engler asked, as her
husband ceased speaking. "He's certainly a nice child, and it's a shame to
see him grow up among all these paupers; but if his mother doesn't care, I
don't know who will."
"Well, I don't know that it's any of our business, either, except to see
that she takes care of him while she's here, and after that I guess we can
manage some way as we always have," Mr. Engler replied. "You've got too
much to do to take any of her responsibilities on your shoulders, and you
must not try. If people will force their children on the charity of the
community, they must take the consequences."
The constant work and worry incident to caring for so many poor,
disheartened people was indeed great, and Mr. Engler was right when he told
his wife that she already had too much work to do; but it was very hard for
her to think of the neglect that the poor little child would undergo even
while its mother was there, for such a heartless woman could not be
expected to do her duty. As the days and weeks glided by, it was as Mrs.
Engler had feared, and the cruel manner in which the babe was handled was
pitiful to behold. But scolding and criticizing the mother did neither the
mother nor the child any good, and Mrs. Engler endeavored to forget about
the matter and to let the baby get along as well as it could.
When at last the seven months had expired and the day for the departure of
Mrs. Fischer had arrived, the woman who had so disgraced the name of
motherhood was glad. The pretty costume of black was faded and worn, and
the glossy hair was tangled and unkempt, but within the eye the light of
evil was shining brighter than ever. It was indeed a glad moment for her
when she heard the chains about her ankles clanking heavily upon the floor
and she knew that she was once more a free woman and could go and do as she
pleased. And without a thought for the comfort or a plan for the future of
her helpless child, she left him to the generosity of the people.
It truly might seem that the young life was blighted, but there was One far
better than mother, brother, or sister who cared and was ready to lend a
helping hand.
"The eyes of the Lord are in every place, beholding the evil and the good"
(Prov. 15:3).
"Consider the ravens: for they neither sow nor reap; which neither have
storehouse nor barn; and God feedeth them: how much more are ye better than
the fowls?" (Luke 12:24).