The young Queen Victoria had been ten years on the throne of England. In this decade the wheel of philanthropy seemed to turn with increased impetus. It had been set in motion before the dawn of the nineteenth century, for then asylums for the blind, the deaf and dumb, and lunatic had been established. Now various institutions and schemes of benevolence were springing into existence in aid of other classes of sufferers. There was still something wanting, a lady maintained to Dr. Andrew Reed—a powerful friend of the afflicted and needy; she asked him to help the feeble-minded. He demurred; he doubted whether there were sufficient cases to call for a special institute. If she could find six in six days, he promised to take up the matter. Six days produced twenty eligible from their poverty and infirmity, and the well-known philanthropist kept his word. The National Asylum for Idiots was inaugurated at the Mansion House in October, 1847, and was established at Highgate in January, 1848. Since then it has received upwards of 3,000 cases, and the institution now at Earlswood has served as a model for others in different parts of Europe and our colonies.
IN THE PRINTING OFFICE AT EARLSWOOD.
The need of such asylums encircles the world; for wherever humanity has spread children may be born with inherent infirmity, or the "heart ache and a thousand natural shocks which flesh is heir to" may cloud the brightest intelligence. The poor and sick in mind must ever appeal for help to the rich and strong and capable. The mysterious "something wanting" in intellect is a grievous calamity, even when good friends and wealth can procure all possible compensations. In a family where the necessities of life depend on the power to work, it reduces existence to a miserable burden. It was especially for the poor that the National Asylum was established. The pleasant building standing on the breezy uplands above Redhill can accommodate nearly 700 patients; and twice a year, on the last Thursday in the months of April and October, needy cases, from five years old and upwards, are elected on the foundation by the votes of subscribers. There are generally from 130 to 150 applicants, though funds only allow the admission of about one-fifth of the number. Presentations for life may be secured, but it is a happiness to know that the term of five years, which is the rule in election, is sometimes sufficient to teach a boy a trade, or a girl to make herself useful in housework, needlework, or a laundry. Patients entered for five years may be re-elected. Lately one of them wrote to his friends, "It will be soon time to get me in again for another five years. I hope that it will be all right; I like Earlswood."
A VIEW OF THE DINING HALL.
Why should a boy able to write and to take thought for his own affairs be in an asylum for imbeciles? A visit to Earlswood would be the most effectual answer to the question. It is hard to know where idiocy begins and ends. There are skilled workmen in the printers', tailors', carpenters', and other departments, who, to a casual observer, betray nothing wanting.
Many of their exhibits, as well as specimens of the girls' and women's needlework, were sold at the Arts and Crafts Exhibition at Lancaster in 1897, where a section was open to institutions for imbeciles, and seventeen prizes were awarded to Earlswood. But there are other patients whose limited intelligence renders them oblivious of their own infirmity or their own names; between the two extremes there is every degree of feebleness of mind. Those who consciously suffer least are likely to call out the greatest compassion. It is natural to turn away and try to forget the sight of a human creature going on all-fours, or of great helpless babies, without the charm or sweetness of infancy, sitting up with bibs on, waiting for the meal for which they cannot ask.
