THE MOST PRACTICAL CHARITY.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume VIII, Issue 42, 17 October 1891, Page 494

THE MOST PRACTICAL CHARITY.

HERE is a deal of absurdity about the ordinary form of almsgiving,’ remarked a woman of experience, as she closed the door on a professional beggar who had * I importuned and wept in a heart-broken -*■B SJA way which was really unite affecting to ‘ffi I Sb®” the lookers-on. ‘ I presume you think -A 3 me rather hard-hearted, and I suppose I | tent am > b ut a f ter a rather extended obserya.A t* oll an< * some practical work in the line of charity, I have arrived at the concluqvf.sion that a good deal of the so-called y’ f charity is a humbug, and by far the greater part of it is unworthily bestowed. ‘ln the first place, we don’t begin right. If I were to potter about my room, and read or sew, or even work, and pay no attention to my children until they climbed upon the window sills and fell and broke their necks, or played with fire until they were burned to death, I don’t think I would deserve a great deal of sympathy ; do you? Indeed, I would, doubtless, be brought into court and tried as accessory to their deaths ; and, certainly, I would deserve it. ‘ But charity leaves little children to grow up in the streets, to contract vicious habits, to become steeped in vice and crime; and then far over the land we hear the cry : “Come and help us rescue the perishing I Help us to reform the hundreds of thousands of poor sinners who are going ata breakneck pace to destruction !” And benevolent souls give of their abundance; and what is the result ? Many of the tramps are able bodied and quite intelligent enough to know that the more they wail and moan, the more they will be filled. If they are urged to work, they will invent excuses even to the conjuring up of the most dreadful diseases, with which they claim to be afllicted. Indeed, for months, one man, a fairly well-dressed fellow, came regularly to my door and begged for his Sunday dinner. He never came any other day, and when in talking with a neighbour, I expressed some surprise at the fact, I was told that he bad regular places for certain days and meals. When asked one day why he did not work, he told a most pathetic story of heart-disease, declaring that he was likely to drop dead upon the slightest exertion. It so happened that some friends who had heard his pitiful story were passing a low tavern in the neighbourhood andsaw thepoor fellow dancing a “ break down ” after the most approved fashion. • The tramp instinct seems natural to some people and must be counteracted early in life, if at all. The great need of humanity is training for the children, not asylums, refuges, institutions or homes ; but places central, convenient and comfortable —places which are open at all hours of day and evening, where children and youths may be amused and looked after while they are very small, and guided and put in the way of earning a good living when they are older. ‘ Every town, village and neighbourhood and every city at suitable intervals should have some central meetingplace for children and youths—a place under the immediate charge of some competent person. Every visiting child should have its name enrolled on books kept for that purpose. There should be frequent concerts, lectures with illustrations, magic lantern views, panoramas, plays and games and exercises in which the children should join. Of course, it would necessitate some money and more painstaking and hard work ; but that certainly is better than the expense and disgrace of the reformatory, penitentiary and the hangman’s noose.

• In these rooms—“ pleasure-rooms,” for lack of a better name—there should be the fewest possible rules, but these should be strictly observed. Children should be taught to observe the rules which govern polite society. Offences of

all sorts should be referred to a committee of children selected by vote, and offenders should be punished by suspension, or as might be agreed upon. To taunt a suspended child with its disgrace should be considered as a punishable offence. ‘ Cards or certificates of merit should be issued, and the names of the holders of these should be posted in a convenient place, as evidence of good behaviour. ‘ The idea is susceptible of almost endless elaboration even as far as children are concerned, but it is quite as important as regards half-grown boys and girls and young people. As long as there are men and women in the world, just so long there will be love-making and marrying and giving in marriage. What conveniences have young persons for makingsproper acquaintances or continuing them after they are made. There is no place save the street where they can have a moment’s uninterrupted conversation, and street courtships are scarcely to be commended. ‘ When we consider that it is largely from the marriages of young persons of little or no means or education, that the rank and file of our lawmakers come, it seems that society should provide some suitable place for the safe and healthy development of family instincts. How much better that an acquaintance should be formed and continued in an atmosphere of refinement and quiet, with elevating and educating surroundings, and under the watchful eyes of some judicious matron, rather than on the streets, in the beer garden, or in the public parks or on the byways. What is wanted is a rival to the saloon, a place which practically never closes, and is always light, warm and cheery, where no matter what the condition of the mind or body, there is a welcome and a light, warmth and words of good fellowship. A cup of hot coffee, tea or milk on a cold, stormy night would keep many a man, woman, and boy from the rum shop and ruin. A certainty of a smile, a bright, warm room and a cheap lunch, no matter what the hour or the condition, would be far more acceptable to many persons than the grog-shop. When the church opens a rational as well as aggressive campaign against the saloons, then, and not till then, will there be some hope for the salvation of the race. • “ Every honest and pious door closes early, and thepoor and practically homeless thousands in our cities have no place of refuge, but the saloons,” said a well-educated but half-vagrant man, whom I once tried to argue with. ‘ “ But haven’t you any place which you call home?” I asked. • “ No, ma’am ; I have a place to sleep, but can only be there for that purpose. There is no waiting-room, no opportunity for rest. If lam restless or don’t care to retire, I must go to a bar-room or saloon where I am expected to drink something, no matter whether I want it or not. It is bad enough for a settled man, but for boys and young men, the temptations are something dreadful.” ‘ And I thought it over and had to agree with him.’