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).