an expression of great decision and energy. My friend introduced me, and Dr. Wichern welcomed us both with great cordiality.
“Be seated for a moment, gentlemen,” said he; “I am just finishing the proofs of our Fliegende Blätter,” (Flying Leaves, a periodical published at the Rauhe Haus,) “and will presently show you through our buildings.”
We waited accordingly, interesting ourselves, meanwhile, with the portraits of benefactors of the institution which decorated the walls.
In a few minutes Dr. Wichern rose, and merely saying, “I am at your service, gentlemen,” led the way to the original Rough House. It is situated in the southeastern corner of the grounds, and is overshadowed by one of the noblest chestnut-trees I have ever seen. The building is old and very humble in appearance, but of considerable size. In addition to accommodations for the House-Father and his family of twelve boys, several of the Brothers of the Mission reside here, and there are also rooms for a probationary department for new pupils.
“Here,” said the Doctor, “we began the experiment whose results you see around you. When, with ray mother and sister and three of the worst boys to be found in Hamburg, I removed to this house in 1833, there was need of strong faith to foresee the results which God has wrought since that day.”
“What were the means you found most successful in bringing these turbulent and intractable spirits into subjection?” I inquired. “Love, the affection of a parent for his children,” was his reply. “These wild, hardened boys were inaccessible to any emotion of fear; they had never been treated with kindness or tenderness; and when they found that there was no opportunity for the exercise of the defiant spirit they had summoned to their aid, when they were told that all the past of their lives was to be forgotten and never brought up against them, and that here, away from temptation, they might enter upon a new life, their sullen and intractable natures yielded, and they became almost immediately docile and amiable.”
“But,” I asked, “is there not danger, that, when removed from these comfortable homes, and subjected again to the iron gripe of poverty, they will resume their old habits?”
“None of us know,” replied Dr. Wichern, solemnly, “what we may be left to do in the hour of temptation; but the danger is, nevertheless, not so great as you think. Our children are fed and clothed like other peasant children; they are not encouraged to hope for distinction, or an elevated position in society; they are taught that poverty is not in itself an evil, but, if borne in the right spirit, may be a blessing. Our instruction is adapted to the same end; we do not instruct them in studies above their rank in life; reading, writing, the elementary principles of arithmetic, geography, some of the natural sciences, and music, comprise the course of study. In the calling they select, we do what we can to make them intelligent and competent. Our boys are much sought for as apprentices by the farmers and artisans of the vicinity.”
“Many of them, I suppose,” said I, “had been guilty of petty thefts before coming here; do you not find trouble from that propensity?”
“Very seldom; the perfect freedom from suspicion, and the confidence in each other, which we have always maintained, make theft so mean a vice, that no boy who has a spark of honor left will be guilty of it. In the few instances which do occur, the moral sense of the family is so strong, that the offender is entirely subdued by it. An incident, illustrative of this, occurs to me. Early in our history, a number of our boys undertook to erect a hut for some purpose. It was more than half completed, and they were delighted with the idea of being able soon to occupy it, when it was discovered that a single piece of timber, contributed by one of
