LIFE IN THE ALMSHOUSE
Few save the poor feel for the poor:
The rich know not how hard
It is to be of needful rest
And needful food debarred;
They know not of the scanty meal,
With small, pale faces round;
No fire upon the cold, damp hearth
When snow is on the ground.
--Miss Landon.
Mrs. Engler had long since given the care and feeding of the children over
into the hands of inexperienced women, who might have utterly ruined the
delicate digestive organs had it not been that the food allowed was
wholesome and the quantities too small for them to overfeed. The children,
after being provided with pewter spoons, were seated in groups around large
pans and were allowed to dip as they chose into the mixture that the pan
contained. For a time after his mother's departure baby Edwin was fed from
a cup, but as soon as he was able to handle the spoon and to toddle about
the floor, he had to take his place with the others. Thus, table manners
and politeness were unknown, and the earliest picture stamped upon the mind
of little Edwin that he could in after-years remember was a group of boys
and girls, of all ages and of whom he numbered one, hovering about a large
dishpan, each eagerly watching for an opportunity to "dip" for his or her
share of the food.
With the picture came a desire to be good and kind to all. Perhaps some
Christian friend of the family had offered just such a prayer for him, and
God, knowing the evil surroundings that would have a tendency to make him
selfish or unkind, protected and shielded him with this very wall of
kindness. At least God saw and understood, and he cared enough to help the
poor little innocent, untaught boy as he matured from babyhood not only to
be unselfish but to avoid doing many things that might have provoked others
to anger. In short, God became his teacher, and many times while Edwin was
still very young, when he discovered his playmates doing that which was
evil, there was something within his heart that said it was wrong and that
he ought not to do as they were doing. His ideas in regard to the right and
wrong of different things he for a time expressed quite freely among the
children; but, finding that he was only ridiculed for his pious thoughts,
he learned to keep his views to himself. Although he was silent, he
endeavored to keep as far away as possible from the scenes that troubled
his finer nature.
But not all the days were dark for Edwin. There were times when the
children were taken for long walks out in the fields or woods, where the
flowers grew and where the birds sang their sweet songs. Upon such
occasions Edwin's heart would be so filled with gladness that he would be
almost beside himself. Not only the brown and yellow butterflies gliding
hither and thither, lighting now and then upon some pretty blossom, only to
soar away again high above his head as they discovered him approaching,
attracted his attention; but their cousins, the little black crickets and
the green and brown grasshoppers, springing about him in the meadowlands,
made him shout aloud with delight. Not knowing the true names of the lively
little fellows in the grass, he called them "jumper-men." Sometimes he
would catch them in his hands, but he never thought of hurting them just
for fun. And the turnip-patch! What a treat it was for all the children to
pull the pretty white balls from the earth and to eat them, dirt and all,
for it must be remembered that none of the children had been taught by
their overseers to be clean and neat. It was too great an undertaking for
Mrs. Engler to attend to such minor points. So the turnip just out of the
ground was more of a luxury to Edwin in his half-starved condition than
candy could have been, and candy at the poorhouse was practically unknown.
Once there was a kind old lady who came to stay for a short time in the
home. From the first she seemed interested in Edwin, and, seeing his great
desire to do the right, she endeavored to help and to encourage him. She
had a son of her own, who once had been small like Edwin, and she could
understand how very hard some things were for Edwin to bear.
Among the things that the lady taught him to do was to kneel down and with
his little hands folded and in her lap, repeat after her the little prayer,
"Now I lay me down to sleep." But she failed to tell him that it was
praying or what it meant to pray. Neither did she explain that there was a
great God over all, to whom he could tell all his troubles. But although
Edwin did not know the meaning of prayer, there was something about the
words and the repeating of them that he enjoyed, and long after the dear
old lady had gone away from the almshouse, the words seemed to bring a real
comfort and satisfaction to his poor little hungry soul.
Until the sixth year of Edwin's life he never heard that he had ever had a
father, a mother, or a home other than the place in which he was then
living. He knew only that he existed, and that from day to day there were
many things happening about him, some of which he enjoyed, but a great many
of which were distasteful to him. But all that took place he quietly
endured, thinking that it was the best that there was in life for him. The
fact that some were more favored than he was caused him no jealous or
covetous feelings. He reasoned that it was all right for them, but for
himself it could not be.
During the play-hours when the children were allowed to amuse themselves
outside of the building, Edwin soon discovered that "a soft answer turneth
away wrath, but grievous words stir up anger" (Prov. 15:1). God must surely
have taught Edwin the meaning of this proverb; for the old lady did not
mention it in any of her talks, and there was no one else in that wretched
place to tell him.
Many times the childish games were interrupted by the screaming and the
swearing of the people in the insane-apartment. The timid children would
cry out and tremble, but those who were older often tried to repeat the
profane language. All these things, like many others, made deep impressions
upon the sensitive nature of Edwin, and although he was not afraid, he
often pondered them in his heart. Sometimes seated in a secluded corner he
would watch the poor demented creatures with a pitying gaze, wondering why
they talked and acted so strangely, but whether he could or could not
understand them, he studied the sane and the mad alike, and what he felt
was right in the conduct of either he made his pattern, but the wrong he
rejected.
At times during the play-hours the children, overcome by hunger, would slip
around to the large window that opened into the bakery and there stand
gazing wistfully down upon the loaves of fresh bread as they were taken
from the large oven. Sometimes some crusts or stale biscuits were given
them, and with these they would scamper away to the pump to moisten the
bread before dividing it. It sometimes happened that there was not
sufficient bread for each child to have even a bit, and when it happened
thus, Edwin always gave his share to some one else. And when asked if he
would like some certain thing, his answer was always, "If no one else wants
it."
Because of his thoughtfulness he was often obliged, because of the
selfishness of others, to eat foods that had been rejected as refuse, but
in his heart he never complained nor felt that he had not acted wisely.
Thus, the Golden Rule, although in words unknown to him, became a governing
principle in his life.
When the days were pleasant and warm during the summer months, groups of
men and women often gathered about upon the large platform that surrounded
the pump, or under the shade of an apple-tree, to prepare the vegetables
for the table or the fruits for the coming winter's use. As little was
known at that time about home canning, the fruits were usually dried in the
sun or in the large ovens after the baking was done. The children loved to
gather about the groups at work to keep close watch for stray bunches of
berries or raw potatoes and turnips, that might be carelessly dropped. In
this they were now and then successful, but the rounds of Mrs. Engler were
frequent, and for several reasons the workers were particular that nothing
be lost or wasted.
Instead of horses, heavy teams of oxen were used for all farming purposes.
These animals, although faithful and trusty under ordinary circumstances,
did not like to have children playing about their feet; and as there was no
one to pay especial attention to the little ones, it sometimes happened
that a child was either crippled or killed by the hoofs or horns of the
powerful animals. On one occasion Edwin saw one of his playmates bruised
and trampled in this way.
These scenes, as well as the regular rounds of the chore-boy Jim with his
water-yoke upon his shoulders, carrying either water for the home or slop
for the pigs, were sights that were common and in many cases interesting to
Edwin. But from them he could learn practically nothing of the things that
he would need before he could become a useful man in the world. Aside from
a few instructions that were given them in hard labor, the poorhouse
children were allowed to grow up as a flock of poorly fed chickens or
animals. They were given their rations, a place to sleep, and that was
about all.
The daily routine of the almshouse from year to year was little changed.
Some passed on to their reward in the beyond, but the general order of
things remained the same. The steward and his wife were busy from early
dawn until late at night looking after everything and everybody, but many
of the things of vital importance had to be neglected for a lack of
sufficient time and strength.
"Better is the poor that walketh in his uprightness, than he that is
perverse in his ways, though he be rich" (Prov. 28:6).