The Poorhouse Waif and His Divine Teacher: A True StoryByrum, Isabel C. (Isabel Coston)
Religion
The Poorhouse Waif and His Divine Teacher: A True Story
Byrum, Isabel C. (Isabel Coston)
Christian life -- Fiction; United States -- History -- Civil War, 1861-1865 -- Fiction
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.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account