8Q 
THE RURAL NEW'-VORKER 
THE ADOPTED CHILD. 
Part I. 
Why the Adopted Child? 
[Note. —This article will be followed 
by others on the physical, mental and 
moral training of the adopted child. 1 
Before entering the field for consider¬ 
ing the care of the adopted child, it may 
be worth while to answer the above ques¬ 
tion. One can answer it in all conscien¬ 
tiousness and good faith, and at the same 
time be fully conscious of not having at¬ 
tained the highest degree of success, as 
may be evidenced in the lives that have 
been committed to one’s care. 
Why the “adopted child?” 
We will use this term to include any 
child not our own, the ordering of whose 
daily life becomes our duty, as well as 
the child legally adopted. 
Why this child, or children, of other 
parentage than ours in our homes? 
For two very simple reasons which 
may also apply to any effort to do one’s 
duty in the world. First, because of the 
need of such child or children ; and sec¬ 
ond, because of our obligation to meet 
this need. The world’s history is full of 
the struggles of orphan children, and 
many worse than orphaned, the children 
of irresponsible parents. The fiction of 
all ages has chosen such children to be 
the types of heroes and heroines. Why 
open our homes to them when institu¬ 
tions may care for them? 
However good and well managed an 
institution may be, it cannot do for the 
child what the home and family life 
should do. To be sure an institution is 
far better than no home; but, except to 
meet temporary needs, it is not an 
acknowledged success in the development 
of real character. The notable excep¬ 
tions to this statement are the orphan¬ 
ages founded by George Muller and Dr. 
Barnardo. both in England, where or¬ 
phans by the hundreds were trained into 
noble men and women. The very spirit 
of the founders of these orphanages 
seemed to enter into the lives of the 
children there; but George Mullers and 
Dr. Barnardos have not lived in great 
numbers in this world of ours. 
Since institutions, then, cannot meet 
this great and obvious need, it remains 
for the homes of our land to do it. Not 
every home, of course. Many houses in 
which people dwell would be poor places, 
indeed, for a homeless child. We all 
know them. Yet it need not be the ex¬ 
ceptional home, or one seeming to offer 
exceptional advantages. It should be, 
though, a home in which there exists a 
genuine love for children and for child 
life. To those who have such love for 
children life holds few things greater 
than the satisfaction of watching the 
physical development of a child, and the 
unfolding of the mental and spiritual 
natures; and the more unpromising the 
child, the greater the satisfaction. 
Why our obligation? Some twenty 
centuries ago we were told that “To 
whomsoever much is given, of him shall 
much be required.” 
To most of us there comes a time when 
we must answer the question, “Who 
is my neighbor?” Then it will be for 
us to decide whether we will be the 
priest or the Levitc and “pass by on the 
other side,” or will prove ourselves 
“neighbor” to some one in need, often¬ 
times a little child. 
Let no one who is unwilling to make 
sacrifices assume this obligation; nor 
should anyone do so who magnifies the 
sacrifice involved. Rather let him count 
among his blessings the influences that 
react upon his own nature. Everything 
in life that is worth while costs; and, if 
we would possess it, we must pay the 
price. We women hold that motherhood 
is the best that life has to give. Yet 
what is so costly? Mothering some 
motherless child may be counted among 
the next best things, and it, too, costs; 
but it is well worth the price. 
When considering the matter of taking 
a child, it is surprising how much oppo¬ 
sition one meets. “You are taking a 
great risk.” “That child may disappoint 
you and bring you great sorrow.” “It 
is not fair to your own child.” Thus 
go the criticisms; and the eyes of the 
critics are ever open to watch for any 
seeming injustice. Confident in one’s 
own integrity of purpose, a deaf ear can, 
and should be turned to any and all such; 
but let no one assume the care of a 
child who is unwilling to pay the price. 
Possible disappointment? Y’es, disap¬ 
pointment, time and again. Yet, consider 
over and against this, that no honest, 
earnest effort ever can be wholly lost; 
and that the one for whom the effort is 
made must, of necessity, be the better for 
the love and care expended. 
One frequent cause of disappointment 
in the results of years of care and de¬ 
votion to a child arises from expecting 
too much. This is also true in other 
relations of life. While we should have 
high ideals, yet there is danger of ideal¬ 
izing; and this, of necessity brings dis¬ 
appointment sooner or later. In the case 
of children of unknown heritage and 
limited possibilities, it is manifestly un¬ 
fair to exact or expect too much. 
The experience of all organizations 
whose purpose is to find homes for home¬ 
less children proves that many people 
who take a child are often unjustly ex¬ 
acting. as well as impatient of the child’s 
development. There are cases on record 
in which a child has been returned to 
the organization to be placed in another 
home, after months and even years of 
being “on trial,” during which time the 
child’s name was changed, as well as 
every condition of life. Oftentimes the 
only apparent reason for such action was 
that the child was expected to be a model 
child—something a little less than an 
angel. In some cases there were reasons 
for which the child was not in the least 
degree responsible, such as that would- 
be parents concluded that they were too 
advanced in years to modify the condi¬ 
tions of their lives as necessitated by the 
presence and care ot a child. This up¬ 
rooting must be both painful and demor¬ 
alizing to the child, and may leave a 
shadow on the little life; but who shall 
say that in the end the child is not 
the gainer and the home left behind 
the loser? 
The possibility of being disappointed 
in a child is, then, no argument against 
taking one or many. Recall instances, 
only too frequent in the most limited cir¬ 
cle of acquaintances, in which own chil¬ 
dren have been bitter disappointments. 
“How sharper than a serpent’s tooth 
it is to have a thankless child!” Should 
the disappointment in an adopted child 
ever be so severe as that of one’s own 
flesh and blood? 
Is the taking of a homeless child un¬ 
fair to own children? 
Quite the contrary—in any home 
worthy the name. Such homes and par¬ 
ents must have high ideals of character, 
and a desire to develop the traits of gen¬ 
erosity and unselfishness. What better 
opportunity can be had than to teach 
an own child to “share and share alike” 
with other children less fortunate, in no 
patronizing way, but as a matter of 
course, all being practically on the same 
basis? This applies to externals, and in 
so far as may be possible, to the sharing 
of affection also. Yet, it is expecting too 
much of human nature to require the 
same degree of affection in the one case 
as in the other. This opens up a topic 
too comprehensive to be more than 
touched upon here, that of the place in 
the heart in which each child is held. Is 
it not. and must it not of necessity be a 
little corner for each one, differing in 
both kind and degree even as their na¬ 
tures differ? Surely every personality 
with which we come in contact means 
something entirely different to each one 
of us; then how can thought or feeling 
ever be exactly the same for any two 
children? Indeed it is better that it 
should not be. The question of justice 
or injustice will not enter into the sit¬ 
uation with persons of right feeling and 
intentions. One can afford then to ig¬ 
nore suggestions and criticisms, secure in 
the belief that, as we may not expect to 
fit the same hat or coat to each child, 
neither do we hope to deal with all chil¬ 
dren in just the same way. In fact, one 
of the inherent rights of a child is that 
his or her distinct individuality be con¬ 
sidered. 
The one thing to be kept persistently 
in mind is that results are not in our 
hands. When one conscientiously cares 
for a child in what seems the right way, 
there should be no room for remorse, no 
matter what may be the outcome; for, 
in any given instance, or in all, no other 
action than the one taken would have 
been possible. “Train up a child in the 
way he should go; and when he is old 
he will not depart from it.” 
THE HOPE FARM WOMAN. 
The Study Hour. 
At seven p. m. or a little sooner, if 
outdoor chores and supper work are done 
in time, the bell is rung vigorously by 
Three-year-old to call the two older boys 
to the study hour. This is all the part 
the little fellow has in the work, as at 
seven sharp he is undressed and put to 
bed. 
It is Seven-year-old’s turn to read first 
to-night, and he gets the “Memory Gem” 
book and goes to work something after 
this fashion, in drawling monotone: 
“Robert of Lincoln merrily s-w-i-n-g- 
i-n-g—” 
“Swinging,” prompts mother. 
“Merrily swinging on brier and weed, 
rear to the nest of his little dame, over 
January 17, 
the m-o-u-n-t-a-i-n- s-i-d-e. Mountain¬ 
side.” 
“Over the mountainside and mead, Rob¬ 
ert of Lincoln is telling his name, Bob¬ 
olink, bobolink, Spink, spank, spink, 
Snug and safe is this nest of ours, Hid¬ 
den among the Summer flowers. Chee, 
chee, chee!” 
“Mamma, you read it over first,” 
pleads the little boy. 
So Mother reads it all and Father car¬ 
ries the littlest boy off to bed trilling hap¬ 
pily an echo. “Bobolink bobolink, spink, 
spank, spink.” After hearing the beauti¬ 
ful poem read understandingly, Seven- 
year-old wades through the rest of the 
verses very creditably and with evident 
enjoyment. 
Now Big Brother takes his turn at the 
“Skeleton in Armor,” which also has to 
be read to him before he can read it and 
get the “sense” of it. A short recitation 
in number-work for the younger lad comes 
next and then a bit of written geography 
work for the big boy. This only takes 
about half the hour usually, and if the 
work has all been done cheerfully and 
well, each has earned two pennies and 
besides the rest of the hour Mother reads 
aloud, which is counted a great treat. 
Bedtime has always been at seven, un_ 
til this year, and the reading has always 
been a part of the bedtime hour, but this 
Winter the school work has been added 
for the benefit principally of the older 
boy, who is backward in all but his num¬ 
ber-work. It is easy to say in such a 
case “Why don’t the parents help him at 
home?” But people generally do not 
realize that country children have a 
harder day than village children at school. 
They often walk a mile or two night and 
morning over bad roads in all sorts of 
weather, have only a cold lunch at noon, 
and besides help with the chores at home, 
being, when night comes, physically un¬ 
fit for a strenuous hour or so of mental 
work, as indeed the parents are too. 
They are often dead tired with the long 
hours of hard labor which is the lot of 
most country folks. However a hot, 
hearty supper, soon after the children 
get home from school fits them for an 
hour of light mental work after the 
chores are done. After eight o’clock 
there still remains at least an hour for 
Father and Mother to enjoy, after the 
youngsters are safe in bed. If neigh¬ 
bors “drop in” or some social event calls 
the folks away from home, books are 
laid aside just for the evening. As for 
the reading matter there is always a 
book going; at present “John Halifax” 
just begun, and “Robinson Crusoe,” just 
finished, while “David Copperfield,” “The 
Little Lame Prince,” “Heidi,” “Dri and 
I” and others have had their turn. There 
is too, always a brief Bible reading, and 
the “Youth’s Companion” and other pa¬ 
pers and magazines furnish material for a 
varied program. F. J. F. F, 
Haunted Houses. —Most people of 
middle age have heard stories of haunted 
houses. Many of them in fact have 
known buildings situated in lonely places 
which were thought to harbor ghosts. We 
have known several cases where ignor¬ 
ant or superstitious people absolutely re¬ 
fused to go by such houses at night, or 
to enter them and remain alone. A re¬ 
cent medical article gives an account of 
the investigation of such a haunted house. 
Reputable people who slept in it de¬ 
clared that they heard strange noises, and 
that they actually saw various shapes 
and shadows gliding about. A cold¬ 
blooded scientist who could not have pos¬ 
sibly been frightened by a ghost, spent 
several nights in the house, both alone 
and in company with those who claimed 
it was haunted. He found that two or 
three stoves burning coal were not prop¬ 
erly ventilated, and that the windows and 
doors had been kept shut tight. Thus 
there was an accumulation of coal gas 
in several of the rooms. The effect of 
this coal gas is peculiar upon some hu¬ 
mans. Among other effects it disturbs the 
mental processes, makes them exceeding¬ 
ly nervous, and in a half-awake and half- 
asleep condition they frequently see vis¬ 
ions and hear peculiar noises. The house 
was haunted by coal gas, and that was 
all. It was poorly ventilated, and poorly 
heated, and people of a naturally nervous 
temperament when sleeping in the house 
were affected by the gas and imagined 
a long series of vain things. 
A PRIZE PACKAGE OF HUMANITY. 
