The Indiana State sentinel. [volume] (Indianapolis) 1868-1895, 1892-05-18
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The typical lnhabltant OF slumdom is
not the least interesting product of our
nineteenth century civilization. Though
regarded by society as a commodity, a
compound of mathematical quantities
or chemical gases, he is a being with
heart and a brain, and between these
spring thousand needs and emotions.
Christian charity saws he has a heart of
flint and a conscience as devoid of moral
consideration as an absence of all fear
can make it and that the forces CT civiliza-
ton have placed him in his proper sphere.
1t does not take the trouble to look below
the surface and INQUIRE whether he is
other than a mere machine or to ascertain
the cause of his poverty. 1t filings him a
crust and with its lips moist with the pro-
LESSONS of the lowlY Nazarene murmurs:
How sad but tits Gods law that one
mans thrift comes by another's need"
So much for the Christian charity that
has for nineteen centuries been preached
from the pulpits of the world and lived in
its marts by the gospel of msmmon.
The typical male inhabitant of the slums
is usually man with a history. He does
not always spring from the soil which
stamps him an outcast. Very often he
comes from respectable parentage and
lives respectable life until misfortune
overtakes him and ne falls through no
fault of his own. He struggles bravely
against his fate and would better his con-
dition if he could. Unsuccessful. he loses
courage and becomes a prey to endless
longings for what is forever out
of his reach His hopelessness
ends in despair and he seeks to
drown his misery in drink until his self
respect and manhood become unknown
quantities. The words friendship. love
and home have long ceased to hold any
meaning for him; his only ambition is to
get something to eat and drink, no matter
how, and to end the race in which he Oc-
casiOnally has sense enough to realize that
he has scored an overwhelming defeat is
the one dream of his miserable life. He
has not the courage nor the means to take
his own life. He simply drags out an ex-
istence of terrible suffering ard misery
until death rings the curtain down on
what might have been a blameless life.
The inhabitants of the slums of our
large cities today are enduring a mass of
acute agonies such as never pierced the
heart of savage races. Civilization offers
them no respite from poverty and suffer
ing, but only increases their needs.
Primitive man, the man of the woods
and caves, would not endure hunger and
want. He emerged for conquests and
spOils. The ravages OF Atilla and Gene
seric began from the stomach. Civilized
want is shy and modest. 1t dresses itself,
If it may. in the garb of responsibility
and smiles IN the face of the pitiless
world.
The women and children of this adjunct
of modern civilization called the slums,
who live ia wretched rooms where cook
ing stove sometimes constitutes the only
article of furniture and the inmates sleep
upon pallets of straw on the floor, furnish
material for the potter's field and employ
ment for the well-clothed, well-fed attend
ants of the human waif at our poor houses
and charitable institutions. Let me give
here an excerpt from description of
trip took into the slums of Boston
few Sundays ago:
The region visited was certainly worthy
of the prophetic epithet the abomina-
tion of desolation." Over it the fires of
lust and passion had swept in unre-
strained fury, and what l saw were the
mere embers of souls, the blackened and
bpCClIdA cbulh 10 VI q OhCC
Girls who were once pure handled in the
arms of brutes who were once men.
Women with rum loated faces twirling
cigarettes under the noses of men; young
men lost to all sense of shame and honor
lying drunk or asleep upon the benches
or floor.
The great feature of Sunday visiting is
invariably the number of people found
drunk in their homes. The revels of the
night before seem to tell on men and
women alike. Our first visit takes us up
a rickety flight of stairs into dirty tene-
ment house. Here we find an old woman
lying on a couch covered with rags. Her
body is barely covered with dirty and
ragged Undertaking, which shows us a
shrunken frame barely held together with
the brown, shriveled skin. She lifts her
long, bony hands and exclaims, God
bless We, God bless ye, dears an it's good
OF We TO come an see a poor, old sick
woman"
My companion inquiries if she has yet
had her breakfast. The old creature says:
Tim, nv son, is getting me something l
guess" Tim, a stout, ruddy-faced Irish
man, is fumbling around dirty table,
Uttered with indescribable articles covered
with filth. No food is visible either on
standing against the weather-stained wall.
Tim seems very nervous and my COM
panion seems to understand that there is
no food in the house. if the place may
be dignifed by such name, and asks the
old woman if she would not like some
Cruel. Yes, dear yes, dear" she answers
nervously.
am told to remain with the sick. wo-
man while the slum officer goes home to
bring the Cruel. While she is gone the
woman begins grooming sort of noise,
as though trying to sing to a child. She
asks me II l can sing, and receiving a neg
alive reply, raises a weak voice to a high
pitch, and TREMENDOUSLY repeats a weird
little song learned, she said when a child.
She cannot sing vet the feeble mind can
bring back scenes OF her childhood and
enable her to live them over again, even
in the midst OF such squalid surroundings.
The old face lights up as she proceeds.
and she half raises herself and sits with
closed eyes swaying to and fro, oblivious
TO all about her.
watch her, and, as she falls back with a
| low moan on the couch | shudder, and
wonder if she is dead. She lies still, SEEM
| ing not to breath, and / dread to speak
| fearing / shall get no answer. NV heart
| begins to quake within me, and tremb.e
like an aspen leaf. when Tom, who has
been doing in the next room, jumps up