The daily morning journal and courier., 1898-10-14

tered we could hear the children above stairs singing softly and sweetly the { pretty refrain of song-"Good night, good night" The effect was charming.
 Some one was playing a piano ac- compartment, and the children of the three grades had all gathered in one room, the matron told me, to practice their songs for Donation day. | They looked well and happy enough as they sang.
 Yet I must confess that to me it is always a sad sight to see a number of children dressed in the plain, unre- lieved garb of an institution. To my mind there Is only one thing that pro- duces a similar impression; that Is nursery, and I think the children in their institutional dress are in some ways even more depressing. For the 1 nun, however lonely she may be, has at i least given up home ties of her own | free will. Speaking generally, she has 1 had all her joys and found them, per haps, mere apples of Sodom She has been taught of life and experience, and she is glad to rest from the weary ! tasks of those hard teachers and, dead 1 tO tilc WOi lu, IO SO bcl way IA pOe'SS'
 But with the children, how different! | They have not yet learned of experi- ence. They have neither loved nor ! lost. Their time to rest Is not yet come They are only hungry for home | and friends, and the natural, normal 1 child life; for fathers protecting ! kindness and a mothers tender love. And the saddest thing of all is that 1 they do not know, these poor children of our institutions, what it Is that they lack. They have known so little of the love of parents or of the sweetness of home. Only one reads it in the eyes and feels it in the souls which turn so trustingly to any sign of love, as the flowers turn toward the sun.
 { But we cannot help these things, you say. Their parents are dead, of course, and we must put these children in institutions. There is no other way. Well, perhaps, there isn't for the state, at least. The golden age is not yet come. When 1t arrives I am sure there will be no child on Gods green earth who does not have home; a real home.
 Yet, as one walks down Chapel street after visit to the orphan asylum, one can scarce help wondering if in some or those elegant, spacious, well-kept residences which line that gracious thoroughfare, love could not find room for one of these soul-starved, homeless little ones. The houses are so big and those babies at the asylum are so small
  | An, well! Is it only when the great arms of the Eternal reach down to lift one of our own little ones up to the more spacious mansions that we can discover how large and empty are those great vacant rooms of our earth i ly house? It is usually at such times, when the child's familiar laugh and the child's sweet call is heard no more | that the heart makes room in the | house for some homeless little one of the poor. But why wait so long? Our ! joys should soften our hearts as we'll i as our sorrows.
 But this is drifting, and I fear you l will add that it is sentiment, and sen- timent, you know, is at great dis count nowadays. Of what worse thing can one be accused than of sentiment 1 tality? Call man thief and he may | know how to answer. There is one re- l ply always appropriate to such an ar gument, but it takes muscular strength ! to administer it. But call man a sentimentalist and where is he? You { have knocked the stuffin out of his arguments before they are uttered and the ground from under his feet before he can move.
 To return to my subject. As we came down from the upper regions the matron informed me that the oldest child in the asylum was twelve years old. After that age" she continued, i've send them out to private families though we have the oversight of them until they are eighteen, and some member of the board visits them at least once year."
 As we went toward the school house the matron pointed out the steam laundry located short distance from the house, and the hospital, which Is used only for contagious diseases. The latter is a pretty, modernly- built brick house constructed on the cottage plan. 1 Tt has been used only twice, I think, l since tile dSyluIu WdS OpGueu, the lld- tron said. She has held her office for nearly seven years.
 I must not close without reference to one of the most interesting calls of all; ; our visit to the baby house. The ba- { bies have yard in which to play on nice days. It is enclosed by fence of wire and Mrs. Hunt calls it her "chil- ken yard"
 It had rained that morning and con- sequently the ground was doubtless too damp for creeping chickens" so when we called we found them all on the broad piazza with their nurses.
 Two of the babes were in carriages aking their food from the usual bot tie. They were each, the nurse said, about seven months old. The others were older and most of them able to stand or creep. One or two of them smiled upon their guests in a charm l ingly hospitable manner. Evidently they had not learned to fear strangers.
 Within the hall of the house is erect ed tablet which reads:
 ''The Nina Lynette Nursery, erected in memory of Gynette and Nina Spen- cer, by Caroline w. Baldwin, May 2S, 1891.
 | Jnaenoych as ve have done if rn+o