"To all to whom she owes assistance as a right," are words eloquent with the great truth of social statesmanship which they suggest; which is, that a country, a government, should recognize the right of its subjects (or component parts, to speak more decently, for there is a hateful sound in that word "subjects") to life; and the great moral duty of all these parts to assist each other; a duty which is clear and imperative in the nature of things (but we cannot here go into the subtleties of the matter, and show why); a duty, however, which can never be fitly performed till some nation or people are so organized, politically and socially, that each shall receive all he merits therein; till the labor forces, the creators, the only really worthy, are honored and protected; and not, as now, when the chief villains and the worthless tyrants live upon the fat of the land, enjoy all the honors, and are shielded by the laws in robbing from and exploiting upon the poor, the laboring classes.
Healthful and buoyant of spirit, Officer McWatters doubtless has many years of active life yet to enjoy. The record of his past is abundant assurance that his future will be just, generous, brave in good deeds, sternly and patiently laborious, and benevolent to all mankind; and when he ceases to be, when the organized atoms which make what we call the man, and are discriminated by us from all other organized atoms as "McWatters," shall have been resolved into their original conditions, and his individuality is lost forever in the ceaseless processes of continuing creation, his good deeds shall live on still, and make for him a place in the reverence of those who honor good works far above that of most men; above that of all the talkers, the self-elected teachers, who heed not their own doctrines, however noble these be. One such man as Officer McWatters is worth more than an army of self-proclaimed saints, who do nothing but prattle about virtue, and preach, to use their own figure of speech, but live not out in their lives, nor exemplify in their deaths, "Christ and Him crucified;" but who think more of Christ on the Cross, in the "triumph of faith," than of the nobler Christ-come-down-from-the-Cross, and still battling, with untiring spirit, against the wrongs which men do to one another.
With this hasty sketch, and the appendices which we may see fit to make (as before indicated), we leave Officer George S. McWatters,—the kind of heart, the merciful, the dutiful, the intelligent and honest man; the patriot of the true type; the practical and great philanthropist,—in the hands of our readers, trusting that some able biographer will yet write his history, in a style and with a particularity commensurate with Officer McWatters' nobility of character and multifold great good works in the cause of humanity.
THE ORGAN-GRINDERS.
A WORD IN THEIR BEHALF—LETTER FROM OFFICER MCWATTERS (REFERRED TO IN THE BIOGRAPHICAL NOTES)—A SAD STORY—WHY THE ASYLUMS CANNOT BE HOMES FOR ALL THE DISABLED.
To the Editor of the Evening Mail: The communication signed "S. W. H. C.," in your issue of the 19th, breathes a good spirit towards our sick and disabled soldiers, but evidently was not written understandingly. By far the greater number of the street organ-grinders, clad in soldiers' garb, have been true and honest soldiers, but being husbands and fathers, they cannot take advantage of the asylums. The article on this subject was in all respects correct. Until the nation furnishes homes for this class of our disabled soldiers,—homes which will not necessitate their parting from their little families, dearer to them by far than their own personal comfort,—we must look for such street exhibitions as we see, and which are not disgraceful to the soldier, whatever they may be to his country. That some of these are impostors, I do not doubt; but it is the duty of the police to satisfy themselves who are and who are not, and to treat them accordingly. On the other hand, there are no more deserving objects of charity in the world than some of these are.
In evidence of the reluctance which those who have family ties feel in entering any of the asylums, I now narrate you an incident. Some six months ago I found a poor fellow in this city who had lost his health in the army, in which he had served four years. He had just been sent out of hospital incurable—a consumptive. He had a wife and four children, the eldest a boy of twelve, a cripple, and three little girls. Some one of the customary blunders at Washington had hitherto delayed his pension. The sole income of the family, when I called, was what the mother earned by scrubbing. The father had evidently not long to live, and poverty was hastening him to the grave. When I called, and saw how things were, I advised him to go to the Home, to which I would find means to send him. He said he would consult his wife. He did so, and then said that he had resolved to go; that he was only eating the bread his poor wife earned, and which his little ones needed. I took the necessary steps, and received from General Butler the coupons for his transportation. By this time I had had several interviews with his family; and seeing how much misery the threatened separation was likely to entail,—for they were deeply attached—father, mother, and children—to each other,—I resolved to try and prevent it. To this end I consulted Mrs. J. A. Kennedy, President of the Ladies' Union Relief Association, who, having heard the pitiable case, consented to extend the aid of the institution to the family, that they might stay together as long as the father lived. Freighted with this news, I went to the miserable home. They were waiting for me; had been sitting, weeping in company for hours, expecting the separation. I cannot describe to you the joy that filled that poor home when I told them that the father was not to go. Their joy was more touching than even the preceding grief.
Had "S. W. H. C." been with me then, or had he seen so many of just such cases as I have seen, he would be much slower in coming to judgment of the poor organ-grinder. For it is this love of wife and children, which we honor, or ought to honor, which sends the married soldier on the street to beg in this way, rather than take life easy, and "fight his battles o'er and o'er again" in an asylum. The soldier above referred to is still alive, thanks to the assistance given him by General Butler and the good ladies of the Association.