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
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).
CHAPTER II
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.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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