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with good board and lodging in a strange place. Neither furnished lodgings' nor provisions are very cheap at S. Leonards, and for the small sum the girls could pay only very miserable accommodation could be procured, and diet far too low to be wholesome for brain-workers. Moreover, there was a second objection in the fact that, out of school hours, these young creatures were under no supervision, and, when not occupied with their private studies, were tempted to roam the streets, or to pass the time with chance acquaintances such as their parents would never have chosen for them.

After some experience of these drawbacks, it was determined to obviate them by opening a Pupil Teachers' Home; and a lady, living in apartments, generously offered to rent the other rooms in the house for the use of the girls, and to look after and befriend

them in every way. Her landlady most kindly undertook to do all the necessary housekeeping, and to provide them with cooking and attendance without extra charge -the sum they would give weekly being just sufficient to cover the cost of food.

Accordingly, in the autumn of 1878, four pupil teachers, nice intelligent young girls, took up their abode in the Home, and were afterwards joined by a fifth. Very delighted were they all with the clean and comfortable rooms, the regularity of the meals, and the nourishing, well-cooked food; and very sociable did they soon become with one another. They lived to a certain extent by rule, but were allowed a reasonable amount of freedom, and many little innocent pleasures were provided for them on holidays by their kind superintendent. After a long time, during which the girls improved. visibly in health and capacity, a slight outbreak of scarlet fever in the schools (quickly checked by the action of the Local Sanitary Association) caused for awhile. illness in the Home, as first one of the girls and then a second took the infection; but the cases were promptly isolated, and so carefully nursed that they did not prove serious.

Soon after this time of anxiety, however, and when the Home had been going on for about three years, the lady superintendent—who frankly said she had begun the work when too old' felt the responsibility too much. for her health, and withdrew from the house, believing that some younger and stronger lady would speedily come forward to take her place. This hope has not been realised.

The Home continues open and has still five happy inmates, but for the last year it has been under the sole management of the excellent mistress of the house, and the rent of the rooms has been paid by the Incumbent of Christ Church, out of some funds which were obtained by an "Olde Englishe Fayre." These funds (which have aided the Schools and Church as well as the Home) are now coming to an end, and unless some lady can be found who will devote a portion of her substance, as well as of her time, to the work, the Home will probably have to be closed at Christmas.

To a single lady, or a widow without family claims, the work might prove not unattractive. It involves no labour, for the present kind manager takes all the brunt of that upon herself, but by her very presence among the girls a gentlewoman-who is really such-has the power of raising their tone, and influencing them for good. She would be able to have a sitting-room as well as bedroom of her own, apart from the common sitting-room, where she would take her meals with the girls; and the house is in a healthy situation, and most conveniently near to Christ Church, where there is a daily Celebration, besides Matins, and Evensong. Fuller information can be had by applying either to the Incumbent of Christ Church, the Rev. C. L Vaughan, S. John's Villa, S. Leonards-onSea, or to the School Treasurer, E. F. Jennings, Esq., 19 Carisbrooke Road, of the same place, either of whom will be delighted to hear from any lady who may be disposed to enter upon the work. A letter to Mr. Vaughan should have on it' To be forwarded,' as he will be away part of November.

No. II.


OURNEMOUTH! Pleasant recollections of sea breezes, sweet pinewood air, public gardens bright with flowers, blue skies, sunshine almost Italian, arise at the name of England's Mentone.


Hundreds of our well-to-do neighbours go there year by year (for Bournemouth is a place only for the sick, even the working classes live outside the gates')-those to whom some measure of wealth is given, those to whom the blessing of health is, in part at least, denied. Of these the greater portion leave restored to strength and vigour, while some 'enter into rest' amid happy circumstances of climate and locality, which make death itself less exhausting and painful.

To all who love the pinewood sea-girt town may the question be put-'Do you know a charming walk along the cliffs, or amid the fir trees, to Boscombe, with its beautiful church of S. Clement's, and the Home and Orphanage of the Sisters of Bethany? If not, do make the Orphanage the object of your next walk. You will receive a most kind and genial reception, and cannot fail to be interested in the objects of the institution.'


Ninety-six children rescued from want and poverty-may-be from vice and a lifelong career of sin—are here carefully trained as servants, pupil teachers, or nursery goverThink of the advantages to parents or householders, thus able to secure the services of a girl who from her earliest years has had instilled into her mind religious truth, high principles, and has been taught habits of discipline and self-restraint. These advantages must be very evident to certain 'heads of families,' who so often complain about the idleness, impertinence, and dishonesty of the ordinary dressy girl,' who demands her two nights a week.



The Sisters of Bethany keep their little ones, while under seven years of age, in the rank of babies.' The care of these devolves upon some of the senior girls, who thus receive practical training as nursemaids. the age of fourteen the school children become Industrials.' They number about twenty, and serve in the house or laundrythe latter being a very important and remunerative feature of the Home. At eighteen, the girls are sent out to service, each provided with an outfit-the cost of which is 37.

Sister A. told me a touching story concerning the death of one of her little ones, the only loss which had occurred in the twelve months.

Little Rose had been rescued too late from a close alley in an ill-drained and unhealthy neighbourhood, and her disease would not yield either to the fostering care of the Sisters, or the benefit of sea air and good food. Too late to rear the little one to spend a long life in the service of GOD; not too late for the baby heart to be taught concerning the

Friend for little children Above the bright blue sky.

As little Rose lay dying, she would fold her tiny thin hands and say, 'Dear LORD JESUS, do bless and love Sister A- ; please

bless and take care of B--.' And so she passed away, praying for each whom she knew in my dear Home.'

This-freely, of her own sweet loving heart. Surely the seed sown yielded fruit a thousandfold. Surely the prayers of the holy innocent ascended as sweet incense unto Him who said, 'Suffer little children to come unto Me.'

The Sisters have to refuse so many applications for admission, for want of room, that they are very anxious to extend their present dormitories, and to pay off the mortgage on the Home; but are now at a standstill for want of funds.

Will not some of the residents and visitors of Bournemouth make the Orphanage a local interest, and offer unto the LORD some

return for the benefits they receive in that most favoured locality? Will they not leastways visit the Orphanage, see for themselves, and render help in some way? Will they not cheer, by interest and sympathy, the hardworking Sisters who live so retired a life, that even in their own neighbourhood they are not known in any measure according to the value of their work?

In bringing out the Annual Report of their Orphanage, the Sisters of Bethany wish first to thank those many kind friends who have so liberally, and in so many ways, helped them during the past year.

The Subscriptions and Donations, though still falling very far short of what is needed, have largely increased; and although the Sisters cannot attempt to acknowledge, in detail, the many gifts to the Orphanage of clothing, blankets, books, toys, &c., they hope that those who have sent them will accept their sincere thanks, and the assurance that all were most useful and highly appreciated. Especial thanks are due to the friend who so kindly responded to the appeal made last year on behalf of the Children's Oratory, for painting two beautiful panels which have added greatly to its brightness and cheerfulness.

During the past year the health of the children has been remarkably good, and, with the exception of the death of one little child of two years of age, from convulsions consequent upon teething, there has been no illness at all.

The usual examination of the School by Her Majesty's Inspector took place last spring, when the children passed very creditably. In October, the Diocesan Inspector paid his first visit to the School, and seemed pleased with the religious attainments of the children.

The Sisters regret exceedingly that they have had to refuse many applications to receive more children into the Orphanage ; but, until they can extend the existing dormitories-a step rendered impossible as yet through lack of funds-they are unable to accommodate more than a certain number of

children, namely ninety-six. One large room, originally intended for a dormitory, is at present used as a temporary Chapel, the much-needed permanent Chapel not being yet commenced; and until the heavy mortgage of 3,400/. on the house is paid off, it is impossible to continue building.

The Sisters plead most earnestly for help; and there are many ways in which it can be given. The following are suggestions :

Ist. Annual subscriptions or a donation to the Orphanage.

2nd. Gifts of cast-off clothes, boots, old books, toys, &c.

3rd. Clothing, either for the children, or as contributions to outfits, knitted stockings, &c.

4th. (For those in the neighbourhood) Permission to call for scraps, broken victuals, soup, pudding, &c.

Contributions may be sent to
The Sister Superior,


HO is Teddy? We would give a great deal to be able to draw Teddy's portrait on this page, for nothing more, we are convinced, would be necessary to enlist the sympathies of the readers of Our Work in his behalf; but, as that is not possible, we will attempt a feeble description of the small being who bears this name.

We will ask our readers to imagine themselves standing opposite the Mission House in New Nichol Street, Shoreditch, last winter, on one of the children's dinner days. We will ask them to watch that swaying, struggling crowd of children as they push, and squeeze, and elbow their way in order to be nearest the door, and so get the first chance of forcing an entrance when it is opened, to the no small discomfort of the numerous babies, who often get sadly knocked about during the process.

They would have noticed, leaning against the door on those days, a poor, miserablelooking object—a little boy crippled and deformed-who might be any age between four and eight, with a shrunk, wizened face, and evidently suffering acute pain. Standing over him as his champion, would be his elder brother, in clothes all ragged and torn, but with a pleasant good-natured face, and occupied in protecting the little cripple from the pressure of the crowd, which he did by dealing sundry well-directed blows with his fist on any who attempted to push against him. This poor little sufferer and his big brother were always admitted before the great rush, and helped to get safely upstairs into a quiet corner of the room, before the general public took possession. What care the boy took of his 'Teddy,' hoisting him on his back, and staggering up the narrow stairs with his heavy burden! And not a bit of dinner did he touch himself until the wants of the child had been attended to.

Teddy is never out of pain, for, besides his chronic condition of helplessness and deformity, his back is so covered with open sores that he can only lie upon his face.

And what was his home like? A tiny room in one of the most miserable of Shoreditch courts, where he fretted all day long as he lay across an old broken chair, with his face downwards, the only position in which the poor child could get any relief from the pain of the abscesses. Dear reader, this is a description of Teddy as he was.

But now the scene changes. If any of our readers care sufficiently about this sad story to pursue Teddy's history further, we must ask them to come with us to that brightest and cheeriest of children's hospitals-St. Monica's Home, Kilburn, where every alleviation and remedy that the most thoughtful care and affection can devise is lavished upon the little child-sufferers who find their way within its walls.

There, on a snow-white couch close to the open window, with a pet canary close at hand, and the merry voices of the crippled children playing in the garden beneath, lies

our Teddy. And even his mother, when she comes to see him, can scarcely recognise him. That suffering, sad, weary look has altogether disappeared, and given place to round, rosy cheeks and dimpled chin, and laughing blue eyes which express the most perfect happiness and content; her 'Rosy cauliflower,' the Lady Superintendent calls him.

Teddy is a general favourite with every one -with the ladies who conduct the Home, with the nurses, and with the children; always cheerful, never complaining, even when suffering terrible pain, he has managed to win a place in the hearts of all, and his laugh is now the merriest, his spirits the highest, of all the little inmates of that Home.

Such was Teddy's past life: such is his present lot; but now comes the question— 'What is to be Teddy's future?' His sores are healed, he is well and healthy; though, alas a cripple he must be all his life. Is he to return to that miserable Shoreditch home, to endure again privations and semistarvation? Is he to be exposed to the risk of the abscesses forming once more, as the doctor says they are sure to do if he is deprived of careful nursing and good food?

'You must not take our Teddy away,' says the Lady Superintendent of the Home. 'He is the life of the ward. We should all miss him so much.'

'Ask the little fellow himself, as he lies on his comfortable couch by the open window, amusing himself with his playthings.'

'Would you like to go home, Teddy?' He looks up with a half-serious, half-comical expression, as much as to say-' You cannot really be in earnest when you ask such a question as that.' Then, opening his blue eyes very wide, he shakes his head decidedly, and says with great emphasis-'No, thank you, ma'am.'

Yet Teddy cannot be kept for nothing, and our mission fund is very low. To go on paying for him would soon exhaust the scanty store. His future must therefore be left in the hands of those who read this simple, true tale. No! we do not believe that

Teddy will be obliged to return to his former life. GOD will put it into the hearts of some who have a special love for children, and a special sympathy with their sufferings, to provide for his future. 12 a year is all that is needed to make this poor little one's future a comparatively happy one. For this sum he can remain at S. Monica's Home; or, when it is considered advisable, can be removed to a Cripples' Home, and taught some means—if not of earning his living, at least of doing something towards it.

Is there anything that appeals more eloquently for help than the sufferings of little children? And is not the privilege of alleviating their sufferings one of the greatest blessings GOD has bestowed on those to whom He has given wealth?

Should any reader be disposed to 'adopt' little Teddy, will he or she write to the Secretary of the C. E. A.,


27 Kilburn Park Road, London, N.W.

Mission Work at Poplar.

E trust that the short account of our work at Poplar, which appeared in the July number of this Magazine, sufficiently interested our kind readers to make them desire to hear more, from time to time, of the progress of the Mission, and to enlist their sympathy for the many poor sufferers in this populous district. Since that account was written we have become acquainted with a great many more families, and the poverty and destitution it has, in too many cases, been our lot to witness are heartrending in the extreme. Work of late years has been so scarce, that many of the poor, who at one time found it sufficiently easy to earn a living, have been reduced to a state of semi-starvation. Becoming debi

litated and enfeebled for want of proper nourishment, they fall an easy prey to illness of all kinds, and anyone who has had ever so little experience in district visiting knows what sad havoc sickness makes in homes where, at the best of times, the commonest necessaries of life can hardly be furnished.

We will subjoin two or three out of the many instances of this which daily come under our notice.

Mrs. C., a widow, has, since her husband's death, maintained herself and her little family by taking in washing. She has several children, of whom one only is old enough to go out to work. During the epidemic of small-pox which so terribly ravaged the parish last y ear, three of her little ones were struck down. After many weeks' illness they gradually recovered; but, alas! the poor mother's means of subsistence was gone, for who would send clothes to an infected house? She was obliged to move, and since then has been entirely dependent on the earnings of her eldest boy, and as he is as often out of work as in, they are sometimes reduced to the sorest straits. The younger ones-too ragged for school-hang about, shoeless and half-clothed, with a pinched, hungry expression on their faces. that it is pitiful to see. To add to their misfortunes, one of the children, approaching too close to the bedstead, set all their scanty stock of bedding on fire, so that they had nothing left to sleep on but the bare wooden frame or what was equally hard and uncomfortable, the floor-and without covering of any kind.


was a sailor for forty-three years, but having had his hand smashed by a steamboiler, and becoming subject to fits, he was obliged to give up his employment. He has a wife, who, like himself, is subject to fits. In her case they have somewhat affected the brain. Neither of them can now do any work. They live, or rather starve, upon any bits of food their neighbours are kind enough to throw them. They greatly dread having to go to the workhouse, for there they would be separated, and 'We so counted on spend

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