“Why, Mr. James, I came to hear you!”
With the delightful inconsequence of the Irish mind, he regretted seeing me at so unorthodox a meeting, not reflecting that he was the magnet which brought me there!
My father’s experience as the head of two large institutions had shown him that, through changes in fortune, many women who never expected to earn their own living are obliged to do so. He thought all should be so educated as to be able to support themselves. Hence I was taught bookkeeping, and kept, for some years, the books of the School for Idiotic and Feeble-minded Youth. These included a ledger on the double-entry system, and obliged me to take from time to time a trial balance. On one occasion I carelessly overdrew the bank-account. The check went to protest, causing me an expense of two dollars or more and some mortification. The father of one of the inmates, finding that his correspondent was “Madam” and not “Sir,” wrote me in rather gallant style. Otherwise the work was calm and uneventful. I was paid a small salary, which helped out my allowance for dress. “The Town of Lee” was one of the headings in my ledger, this town being responsible for the maintenance of Charles Keep, who had a genius for catching rats without any trap. Why they did not bite his fingers is a mystery. At one time the authorities at the school were puzzled by a shortage in the milk. It was discovered that the feeble-minded boys who brought the cans from the Institution for the Blind, finding the load rather heavy, lightened it by pouring out part of the milk on the road!
Usually these poor children did not display special talent. I remember one who was proud of having only a single hand—a pride not more unreasonable than that often shown by persons of intelligence in matters for which they can not justly claim any credit. Another boy had such an exaggerated fear of Sabbath-breaking that his teacher was in despair on Sunday afternoons. If she proposed any occupation with the slightest tinge of secularity, Charlie would reject it with the simple explanation, “Hell!” The parents in many cases wrote an illiterate hand. The postal authorities were wont to indorse on letters bearing a cryptic address, “Try Doctor Howe.” Everybody who wanted help did “try Doctor Howe”—the rich as well as the poor. Thus while few of the mentally deficient children of the well-to-do came to the Institution, many were brought to his office in Bromfield Street for examination and advice. These he gave gladly, never charging any fee for his services.
Sister Julia, soon after leaving school, took up as her work teaching at the Institution for the Blind. For this she never received any remuneration, nor did she wish any. She was one of the most unworldly persons whom I have ever seen. While enjoying, in a natural, healthy way, the pleasures of this life as they came to her, the things of the mind and of the spirit were to her the true realities. The bond of affection between her and my father was especially strong. “Darlingest, Firstest, and Best Born” he calls her in one of his letters. It was a pleasure to see them start together for the daily trip to the Institution for the Blind at South Boston. Having special talent for languages, she here taught Latin, German and French. She also read aloud in English to some of the inmates.
A few years later, Mr. (afterward “Sir”) Francis Campbell, who had held a responsible position under my father, founded and carried on with much success “Norwood College” near London. This was the first school for the blind in England conducted on modern principles. My father did all in his power to help on the new enterprise, lending several teachers from the institution under his charge to start it. Among them was Miss Faulkner, who later became Lady Campbell.
Some of the American teachers were blind and had been sister Julia’s pupils. It was reported to us that, when traveling on the Continent of Europe, they found her instruction of real help.
In the late ’Sixties Boston was stirred by a ludicrous incident which ended in a tragedy. Three commuters, society men, had turned over a seat on a railway train and were chatting together when a stranger approached and took the vacant place. He was a large man, cumbered with a toy baby-carriage, and his presence disturbed the group of friends, who plainly showed their annoyance. When the interloper arose to go he said to one of the group, “Sir, you are no gentleman!” According to the masculine code, there is only one answer to this remark, although to a mere woman striking a man is a strange argument to prove that you are a gentleman. Mr. X., a small man with a quick temper, delivered the answer on the nose of the offender, knocking off and breaking his glasses. The bearer of the baby-carriage was a pacifist. He did not retort in kind, but brought suit against Mr. X. for assault and battery. The case was complicated by the fact that the three friends, of whom one at least was a director of the railroad, were thought by some of the traveling public to behave too much as if they owned the railway. It was a sort of town-and-gown affair. Hence when the lawyer for the defense made the mistake of treating the whole as a pure joke, the judge was angered and condemned Mr. X. to three months in prison. Having served this severe sentence, Mr. X. and his family left the United States, never to return.