oral Braik*iet «,*i3 Pictorial BHEome Sainpuaum, 
[From a paper read before the State Charities Aid Association 
Conference on “ The Importance of Uniting Individual and As¬ 
sociated Volunteer Effort in Behalf of the Boor.” No. 18 of 
the State Charities Aid Association pamphlets.] 
Ox other occasions I have repeatedly said that 
three or four poor families were as many 
as any one visitor might better under- 
fake—a visitor, I mean, having other 
duties, as most of us have, and able to 
give comparatively little time to visiting 
tbe poor. And why so few ? Surely, 
says some young and generous spirit, 
longing to give something of the bright¬ 
ness and freshness of youth to gladden 
the lives of those who have never had 
any youth, surely I can do more than 
this. Should my four families live in 
the same neighborhood, it would take 
only one hour to visit them all once a 
week, and I have more time than this 
to give to the poor. Yes, I answer, fifteen 
minutes to each family is quite enough, 
is far too much, if it means that you stop merely to 
enquire : “ How they are getting on ? ” “ Not ill, I 
hope?” “What! an accident? I am very sorry. 
Of course not able to work. Nothing to eat? Hor¬ 
rible ! Here, take this dollar, and I will look in 
again next week! ” And so, hastily retreating, to 
escape the thanks which follow, on from one poor 
family to another, and so home, with a glow of satis¬ 
faction that at least those people have a dinner to¬ 
day—only “ I might just as well have given my 
whole morning, and have visited a dozen families as 
those four,” And with this the thought is dismissed ; 
and the next day, and the next bring their round of 
home duties and social engagements, until “my 
morning for visiting the poor” comes in its turn 
again, when the visits and the dollars are repeated. 
What permanent good has been done? If your 
family are worthless, if the man is shamming illness, 
they take the gift as the fair spoil of your credulity, 
and ask themselves what other dupes, be they 
churches, societies, or soft-hearted individuals, will 
listen to the same or another story and supply the 
dollars for the other days, until you come again. All 
you have done in this case is to have helped to pauper¬ 
ize a family. On the other hand, suppose the story 
to have been a true one, suppose the man to have 
been a respectable, hard-working mechanic, tempo¬ 
rarily disabled, how much have you helped him? 
Was it being a friend, was it helping him in time of 
need, to go off and leave him, without knowing what 
was to become of him and his family during your 
absence? And in either case, true or false, has 
your dollar helped to benefit that family perma¬ 
nently ? 
My friends, it will take all the time you can spare, 
all the thought you can give, to understand and to 
help as you might a very few of the many who need 
your help so sorely. Suppose you give of your best 
thought and best effort to one of these poor families, 
and see what this may mean. Let us take one of 
the cases usually considered discouraging—a widow 
with partly grown up children, boys and girls, where 
not one of the family knows how to do anything to¬ 
wards his own support, where all have lived along in 
some mysterious way, partly by picking up odd jobs, 
partly by alms, with no future before them beyond 
a continuance of this same hand-to-mouth existence. 
What can be done for these people? I think you 
must begin by seeing enough of them to know all 
A Fernery for Window. 
about them, by studying the character and natural 
abilities of each member of the family, before you 
can know what you can try to do for each. If they 
know nothing, this must first be made apparent to 
them ; for it is not in human nature to acknowledge 
willingly that we cannot do some one thing well. 
All women think they can sew and wash, all men 
will sooner break our necks than acknowledge they 
cannot drive, and so our poor woman undertakes 
washing or sewing, or house-cleaning—knows how 
to do everything, but can’t get any work. Suppose 
we begin by giving her some of our own clothes to 
wash, and when she brings them home torn to 
pieces, instead of being annoyed, ask her, very 
gently, if she would not like to take a few lessons in 
washing, offer to arrange to have her taught, and 
tell her you will give her another trial with your own 
clothes later, and will try to find work for her. If 
that woman has a spark of ambition and good feel¬ 
ing she will accept your offer, and the next time 
your washing will be well done. I think the few 
dollars spent in replacing what that first lesson cost 
you will have done better service than if they had 
been given outright in several of your fifteen-minute 
visits. And the eldest daughter wishes to learn to 
work upon the sewing-machine ; and the son is wil¬ 
ling to take a trade; and the little children might 
better go to school. You see that they are taught, 
and at first help to find work for them, and stay by 
them, and encourage them to let you know of their 
successes or failures; at last they stand on their own 
feet and make their own way, and when they come 
to see you it is to tell you how well they are getting 
on, or to seek your sympathy when in affliction. 
But then that family, for the case is not a ficti- 
tiou° one, required more time than fifteen minutes 
a week; more time, much thought, some effort, more 
money perhaps that first year. This you have given; 
and what have you received ? God’s gifts are many 
and come to us in various ways, and the word 
spoken to one differs from that spoken to another. 
But is there, can there be, anything more satisfac¬ 
tory in our intercourse with the poor than to have 
those who first came to us as beggars come at last 
as friends, wanting our sympathy in their joys and 
sorrows, but not wanting our money? 
And your poor mechanic, temporarily disabled? 
Could you not have seen his doctor, and spoken a 
good word for him to his employer, and arranged to 
help him until well again by a loan, for 
which he would have given security— 
as such men can—and repaid you later 
in small instalments ? Why break down 
hishonest pride and self-respect by mak¬ 
ing him, for the first time, a recipient of 
alms ? Why let him toss in fevered 
anxiety with care for the morrow, when 
the sleep of to-day is so important for 
his recovery? Your one dollar given 
can do but little for him; your one hun¬ 
dred dollars loaned can do much. 
A MINIATURE AQUARIUM. 
Take with you a small tin pail down 
to the seaside and fill it full of pure 
salt-water. Walk along on the sunny side of some 
creek or inlet until you come to a spot where 
eel-grass or seaweed is growing luxuriantly. Place 
your pail of water down beside you, and in it wash 
carefully a quantity of the eel-grass or seaweed. 
Repeat this operation several times at different 
places, being careful not to soil the water with 
mud. Now put into your pail a pebble, with a 
choice bit of seaweed attached to it, and you have 
all the material necessary for your aquarium. Take 
it home and pour the water into a small glass 
phial, drop carefully into it the stone with the sea¬ 
weed growing upon it; then, after covering the 
mouth of the bottle with muslin to exclude dust, 
place it in a sunny window, and in a few weeks you 
will be astonished at the result. The seaweed will 
have shot out little delicate branches through the 
water, which will remain perfectly pure and trans¬ 
parent for months, while every drop of it will con¬ 
tain many living objects of different varieties that 
will increase and multiply to a wonderful extent, and 
will be ready at all times to be admired under the 
microscope. 
As the water in the phial evaporates it will be 
necessary to add fresh to it. By adding salt water 
it is evident the whole would soon become too salt 
to sustain life. 
SATIN-COVERED FAN. 
A fan that has just received the seal of excellence 
of the Society of Decorative Art for harmonious 
coloring and simplicity of arrangement is an ordi¬ 
nary Japanese fan, cut square, and covered with 
heavy blue and yellow bronze satin, with jessamines 
painted in water-color on the satin. The handle is 
gilded with a rich dead gold, and tied round with a 
large satin bow of the same color as the blue covering. 
O 
