Evening star., 1899-10-14
Noble Work Of the Home of the Good
n
Samaritan.
HELPS TO RAISE UP The FALLEN
Has Started Hundreds of Men on
Il 4y
Right Path.
ITS H UNI BILE BEGINNING
Written for The Evening Star.

Written for The Evening Star E.
1 want to tell you about the most wonder
| full charity 1 have ever seen. OF course,
you'll be bored, but equally, of course, you
will not show it. Charity is decidedly good
form nowadays-quite the proper thing.
| 1t has social standing scarcely second to
golf. higher education or divorce.
Still, perfectly sure of my audience as l
am. announcing charity as the subject of
my few remarks, when 1 have told you all
1 know. and stammered something of all
| feel. I'm afraid you will have little ioea OF
| the wonder 1 have seen until you expe-
| rence 1t yourself.
| A day this week turned from Connecti-
| cut avenue on L street. going toward 10th.
Ahead of me was a man, old, poor and
| whether from drink or disease 1 could not
! tell-weak. He was unsteady on his feet
| and barely dragged himself along. Human
| ity in distress fascinates while 1t appals
| and all but crazes me. The problem it pre-
| sents is the most marvelously interesting
| one the mind can contemplate, and the
| hopelessnesS of 1t makes such a mock of
| our every sort of power that l often move
| helplessly in the trail of human wretched-
ness. my attention fixed by it as by the
| eyes of snake
So 1 followed the old man along L street,
| and when near the corner of 10th he turned
| into stairway leading up over some kind
| of shop below, l kept on, vaguely expecting
| to find his individual want writ large" in
| a wretched home and family
| Instead found-I had not the remotest
| idea what. 1 asked the old man, and he
| told me it was the Home of the Good Sa-
| maritan.''
| Let me describe this as it appeared to
| me, still ignorant of what the name sig
| nified.
Within the Home.
| 1t was immaculate and remarkably order
|
| dinary purity and intelligence gave a GER
tain air of holiness to the place looked
| hard to find if it were chapel or any
| thing of that sort. No; there was a kitch-
| en- arranged in the farther end; an old man
| there busy cooking. At a long table
| on one side another old man was eating
| and along the opposite side was row of
odd hunks. These had iron frames wire
| mattresses, uncovered, and neat roll of
| bedding was at the foot of each-twenty-
| four beds in all. Near the door where /
stood was long table, and above it
! shelves filled with books. l tiptoed in-no-
| body was paying any heed to me. A bal
| cony across the front end of the room was
| furnished with a bed, some chairs and an
organ. Again ! asked the cid man who
| bod led me hther, What is this?' and
] when to his firstTanswer, The Home of
the Good Samaritan" he added, ''Mr. -
| is the gentleman as keeps it, Immediate
| ly went in search sof the So me gentleman.
| He returned With to the home, and
| there l have had such an initiation in per-
feet charity and itsl sorry. sorry need as 1
| never dreamed sbefere-rather. 1 never
| dreamed existed. Il
| fatal want of human relations is some
| one who is doing the things we dream. AT
| the start 'of life !. the most of us dream
nobly enough, but the world is so different
| from our visions that after bit we give
| up trying to make sour dreams come true.
| Then. grown still wiser in the world, we
| give up believing inEdreams. This is life
action GnraahnIV oil y1-n how
| do with bread ands butter, not with stuff
| that dreams are made of. So we fall into
| a habit of working for works sake if We
| fall into no worse habit, and If any one
speaks of dreams we sneer or sigh as we
regard his folly or recall our own disap-
pointment.
| The Home of the Good Samaritan is my
dream of charity come true 1t is built on
| these rocks of a mans experience:
| There are no unworthy poor Poverty
| OF character is the most pitiful human
! want.
| we cannot give to others what we do not
ourselves possess. To serve the greatest
need of humanity-n oral want-we must
have truth and holiness in our own lives
Living Truths.
These two facts, Of which popular charity
| takes no account, are practical living
| truths in the experience of the founder of
| the Home of the Good Samaritan This
man is typical American-self- f-made, sue
l
| the age Of ten selling papers on the streets
| Today he is wealthy-and great deal more
| | have never been SO moved with rever-
| ence for any human being l was in
| this mans presence on the scene of his
| sublime endeavor among the forsaken ones
of earth.
To define this endeavor, to make its spirit
| in any degree manifest to you I must tell
you out of what 1t grew. Twelve years
ago this man became a regular Sunday
visitor the jail and
| by good words and good deeds to redeem
the lives of men whom sin had led TO
| crime and finally to just punishment He
was messenger between these criminals
and their deserted homes and destitute
families, seeking by reviving natural affec-
tlons and natural ties to awaken the man.
ilness of the outcasts. After two wears of
| such work, coming away from the iail
| one Sunday, he halted in it's shadow to SIX
! OF himself why, with all his labor of weeks.
| months and years. he had achieved posi-
uFely no result. He was bound to admit
mat beyond passing, momentary consola-
ton and relief his zeal had counted for
| nothing. Then, scrutinizing himself in the
| actual shadow of the very evil he had
| sought and failed to remedy, he realized
what appears automatic as he utters It.
Il cannot give to others what I have not
| own evil nature" 49,
He saw his own nature to be evil IN this
respect. 80 '''i
he was accustomed to drink-not to ex
SN''o' peit " uTink H1OueTalely, as becomes a
man prudent in business. Ninety per cent
OF the criminals he labored among traced
their downfall to drink. 1t appeared to him
then, quizzing his soul In the shadow of
the jail. that in making drink. the curse
OF these criminals, his own social con-
Venience and personal indulgence he bound
not only the fruits of his charity, but his
| own life, to the destiny of these doomed
men.
At this time he was in poor health. He
took stimuants regularly every day by
order of his physician. who assured him
his life depended on it. Moreover, after the
American fashion, he was accustomed to
treating" SO that to give up drink seemed
to mean physical peril and disruption of
long, established social conditions.
1T was a great sacrifice he said, telling
me his story, and he paused moment lost
in the recollection Of what the struggle had
been" -,
I was reminded of passage of the an
| cient Vedas, which dare say the expert
| ence of every earnest soul reproduces
There comes a time in the life of a man
when the path divides. and one way leads
where many go, and one way leads apart
| and each man walks this way alone Few
are the solitary ones and blest. And the