The Orphan's Home Mittens and George's Account of the Battle of Roanoke Island. Fanny Aunt
up, crying, "Oh, madam! I want nothing for myself! but I would get on my knees to you for my children. I cannot die peacefully, thinking of the poverty and dreadful temptations to which they will be exposed. Left alone, orphans and penniless, who is to teach them the way to heaven?"
"Take comfort, my poor friend," said the kind lady, "your children shall not suffer want."
"But will they be taught to know and love their Saviour?" he asked, looking at her with an expression of intense anxiety.
"Yes, I will see that they are religiously brought up."
"Promise me!" he said in a hoarse whisper, for the excitement had exhausted him, and he lay panting for breath.
"I promise," answered the lady solemnly.
A thankful smile flitted over the wasted features; and looking up, he murmured, "Thank God, I die happy."
A comfortable room was hired, and the children were placed in the care of a kind and pious woman. The little orphans soon became contented and happy. You see them in the picture, playing on the floor. The good woman went out to make some purchases, which the boy just coming in has brought; a young girl is staying with the children until their kind nurse returns.
This is the grain of mustard seed. But before long, more children became inmates of this one room, and the Right Reverend Bishop Wainwright and the other good people became interested in this truly Christian work. They soon found that there was no home for destitute, outcast children, when their natural parents were taken away, who belonged to the Church by baptism. There were not enough Orphan Asylums in this city; for numbers were brought to them, who could not get into these other institutions, because they were full. It seemed as if God himself had called upon them in behalf of these little ones. And thus it was that this institution began.
Then the good Bishop Wainwright, who is now gone home to heaven, became President; Rev. Dr. Hawks, Vice-President; and a number of excellent clergymen and gentlemen were the managers, while as many ladies were formed into a Ladies' Committee.
The grain of mustard seed had sprung up, and its leaves unfolding more and more, made it necessary to find a larger space for it to grow. So a three-story house in Hammond street was taken, and before long, twenty happy children were living there.
Oh, how hard the ladies worked in those few first years! The money came slowly in; but they never grew fainthearted. More and more poor little orphans came to their door, begging for a home, and the living care which their own mothers, dead and gone, could never more bestow. The house was soon filled, and a more contented family of children could nowhere be found. The kind matron loved them all, and worked with the teacher night and day to make them good and happy.
The "Orphan's Home," as it was now called, continued for some years in Hammond street. Then it was removed to two houses in West Thirty-ninth street, and the ladies who had formed the committee now became the officers, with the Right Reverend Bishop Potter and a number of clergymen and gentlemen to advise them. Bishop Potter, you know, had taken the place of the late excellent Bishop Wainwright; whom I esteemed and respected more than I have words to express. I wish, my darlings, you could have heard him read the parables of our Saviour; or the glorious promises contained in the gospels. Their deep and blessed meaning, coming from his lips, seemed so simple and clear, for he read them with such admirable emphasis and point. I never listened to his preaching or reading, without a thrill in my heart, and the tears often dwelling in my eyes. It was at the request of his good and lovely daughter, for whom I have a sincere and warm affection, and who was at the time treasurer of the Orphan's Home, and one of its very best and most generous friends, that I became a manager.
You would have thought that two large houses would have been room enough; but our grain of mustard seed was now a great tree, in the branches of which many more little orphan birds must have a warm nest, and be lodged and fed; and, above all, taught the Way of Life. But there was no room. The ladies who composed the Board of Managers put their wise heads together, and concluded to ask all good Christian people to help them. How could they turn away from the cry of these little desolate ones, when the Good Shepherd and His servants in the work, these kind ladies, were ready with heart and hand to watch over and protect a larger flock of these His poor little lambs?
But there was no room!
The appeal was made, and with grateful joy they saw the money flowing into the trustees' hands in loving streams. Soon enough was collected to warrant the commencing of the building, in whose wide halls and great airy rooms hundreds of motherless and fatherless children could live, and move, and play.
On the 2d of October, 1860, the corner-stone was laid. For fear you might not know exactly what laying a corner-stone means, I will tell you as well as I can.
When a large building is to be put up, the foundation is dug, and a very large square stone is placed in one of the corners, which stone has a small hollow in the top of it.
When this much has been done, everybody interested is invited to the place, and religious services are performed in the open air, the people standing reverently around.
Then the Declaration of Independence, the daily newspapers, the coins that are in circulation for money, the previous history of the institution, if it has any, and everything else that may seem proper or interesting to the occasion, is placed in the hole. The most distinguished person present takes a trowel and some mortar and closes it up. On this the wall of the building is laid.
If, in after years, it should be pulled down, it would be very interesting to take out and look over the things that have been buried so long in the corner-stone.
I was not present when our corner-stone was laid, and I never saw the ceremony; but I believe I have given you the right idea about it.
While the new Home was building, the children were well and happy in Thirty-ninth street.
We had some little ones, whose histories were very sad. There was George Floyd, whose father was mate of a vessel which must have been wrecked and lost at sea, for she went out from New York, and was never more heard from.
And there was little Dickey, who had a cruel stepmother. She ordered him to make a fire in the stove; his clothes caught the flame, and he was dreadfully burned. The bad stepmother did nothing to heal the wounds, and he was found in this state, suffering terrible pain, and brought to the Home, and tenderly nursed till he got well.
And little Mary Canard, who took care of her dying mother, though she was only six years old, whose father was killed on Captain Peak's vessel. And one dear little boy we lost. He was twelve years old, and very good and intelligent. He had that dreadful and almost always fatal illness, membranous croup: – a kind of false skin very thick and tough grows in the throat, so that it becomes impossible to breathe or swallow. The poor little fellow seemed to realize that he was going to die. He told his belief to his kind nurses, and said, "Oh, how I wish I had been confirmed! how I wish I had promised God that I would try to lead a good life and keep His commandments."
At his request Bishop Southgate, who has always been very kind to the children, was sent for. He read and prayed with him; then laying his hands softly on the dying boy's head, implored a blessing for him.
A joyful light beamed from the little fellow's eyes; his whole countenance became irradiated with happiness, and in accents of grateful delight he exclaimed, "Oh, the bishop has blessed me!" In a few hours afterward his Saviour called him, and his gentle spirit passed away from earth, to love and serve God forever in heaven.
All the rest of our children kept in excellent health, and most of them were good and obedient. The ladies worked very hard, and, with God's blessing, all things went on well.
It was in the winter of this year, 1860, that I became a manager; and, you may be sure, I soon coaxed the ladies who had been in the institution longest, to tell me what I have already written.
In the latter part of April, 1861, the grand move took place; and on the night of the 22d, the orphans slept in two splendid great rooms called dormitories. Nice little iron bedsteads had been provided, with comfortable mattresses, sheets, blankets, and white dimity spreads; and they looked so cosy and comfortable I should have liked to have slept there myself. The boys have the dormitory nearest Lexington avenue,