Part 7 (2/2)
”Not in churches?”
”No The sight of athe word of God for so much a year is all a mockery to me”
”What do you believe in?”
”Personal service Churches and charitable institutions and societies are all valueless You can't reach your fellows and pay salaries--but there's a better way” (I was thinking of St Francis and his original dream, before they threw him out and establishedhe soof a few old clothes that the ive so of yourself, and that's affection Love is the only thing you can really give in all this world When you give love, you give everything
Everything comes with it in some way or other”
”How do you say?” I queried ”Money certainly coive it with your own hand and heart--in no other way It co Ah!” he added, with sudden aniet themselves into, the snarls, the wretchedness! Troubles os they say and think, until they can't walk down the street anyabout to see if they are followed They can't look you in die face; can't walk a straight course, but have got to sneak around corners Poor,one another!”
He paused, lost in contemplation of the picture he had conjured up
”Yes,” I went on catechistically, deter, this actual example of the modus operandi of Christian charity ”What do you do? How do you get along without giving the them some money There are cases, lots of them, where a little money is necessary But, brother, it is so little necessary at times It isn't always money they want You can't reach them with old clothes and charity societies,” he insisted ”You've got to love theo to them and love them, just as they are, scarred and miserable and bad-hearted”
”Yes,” I replied doubtfully, deciding to follow this up later ”But just what is it you do in a needy case? One instance?”
”Why, one night I was passing a little house in this town,” he went on, ”and I heard a woht to the door and opened it, and when I got inside she just stopped and looked at me
”'Madam,' I said, 'I have co for'
”Well, sir, you know she sat there and toldin the house to eat, and so I just gave her all I had and told her I would see her husband for her, and the next day I went and hunted him up and said to him, 'Oh, brother, I wish you would open your eyes and see what you are doing I wish you wouldn't do that any ot to telling about how badly his wife felt about it, and how I intended to work and try and help her, and bless h that he wouldn't do that anytoday, and it's been two years since I went to hiht with his appreciation of personal service
”Yes, that's one instance,” I said
”Oh, there are plenty of them,” he replied ”It's the only way Down here in New London a couple of winters ago we had a terrible time of it
That was the winter of the panic, you know Cold--my, but that was a cold winter, and thousands of people out of work--just thousands It ful I tried to do what I could here and there all along, but finally things got so bad there that I went to thesome kind of a fund to help the poor, so I told hi of spending that I'd feed the hungry for a cent-and-a-half a meal”
”A cent-and-a-half a ht it was rather curious, not possible at first, but they gave me the ood as I ever eat myself,” he replied
”How did you do it?” I asked
”Oh, I can cook I just went around to the markets, and told the market-men what I wanted--heads of mackerel, and the part of the halibut that's left after the rich man cuts off his steak--it's the poorest part that he pays for, you know And I went fishi+ng ot ood fisherot the loan of an old covered brickyard that no one was using anythat I could close up and build fires in, and I put ed up tables out of borrowed boards, and got people to loan me plates and spoons and knives and forks and cups I made fish chowder, and fish dinners, and really I set a very fine table, I did, that winter”
”For a cent-and-a-half a meal!”