A Woman's Life-Work — Labors and Experiences of Laura S. Haviland

by Laura S. Haviland

On May 14th I received a note from Mrs. Edgerton, stating that a peremptory order from Rev. J. R. Shipherd, secretary of the American Missionary Association at Chicago, had been received, to close the asylum immediately. From her note I learned that this was the day for the auction sale of the asylum personal property. I was confident that forty or fifty little folks could not at once be properly situated in compliance with such an order, and wrote J. R. Shipherd a proposition, reminding him of his verbal pledge and proposed terms on which we could reopen the asylum for all for whom no suitable homes might be found. I also wrote an appeal to Rev. Geo. Whipple, of the New York Division, and sent with it a copy of the proposition I had made to J. R. Shipherd. I received in reply a request to remit to that division the reply I should receive from J. R. Shipherd, or a copy, by the first mail, for they thought my proposition would be accepted. I wrote them they should have whatever reply I might receive from J. R. Shipherd, but I did not look for any word whatever from him. In the mean time I received a letter from Adrian informing me that four of the little children were already in the county poor-house, and that others would soon be taken there, that four of the younger ones were left in the streets of Adrian to find their own homes among colored people, and that four were left with a poor colored family who were promised pay for keeping them until other homes could be found. Four more were also left with a white family in Palmyra, with the promise of pay until other arrangements were made. One little girl of ten years was left with a woman of ill-fame and of drinking habits, and the little girl had been seen drunk.

I wrote to Rev. E. M. Cravath, secretary of the Middle Division, at Cincinnati, and to Levi Coffin, and learned in reply that eight of the little children were found one morning sitting on the stone steps of the office of the American Missionary Association, with a note in the hand of the oldest, aged ten or eleven years, the purport of which was, "These children were sent by you to the asylum near Adrian, Michigan. It has closed. You must take care of them." They said that Mrs. Edgerton brought them from the asylum, and sent them here in the express wagon. The office being locked, the driver left them on the steps at 6 o'clock A. M. As they had eaten nothing during the night, Levi Coffin furnished them with food, while Rev. E. M. Cravath went to the colored orphan asylum of the city, and made arrangements by paying the board of managers one hundred dollars for their admittance. The letter from Levi Coffin contained the following queries: "What ails Michigan, that she can not care for thirty or forty of these poor little homeless orphans, when we have had a few thousands to look after in this great thoroughfare? Where is the Christianity and philanthropy of your great State, to send these children back to us, who took them from those crowded camps, where there was so much suffering and dying, for the purpose of their being properly trained, and fitted for usefulness, amid humane surroundings?" They soon found the whys and wherefores in my letter and appeal to allow the asylum to be reopened.

After writing a number of letters to the New York Division, containing a full account of the condition of the children, and sending them a copy of the letter from Adrian, I inquired whether as a Christian body they could allow these children over whom they had assumed control, and for whom they were responsible, to be turned out into the streets, to be lodged in the county poor-house, and to be left in the house of ill-fame, and appealed to them as Christian men to make some suitable arrangements for them. Their reply was: "We can not afford to allow this condition of those children. We have not received a communication in this office that has produced the deep feeling that your last letter has. We have telegraphed Mr. Shipherd to dispose of nothing more connected with that asylum. How long would it be before it could he reopened, should we replace it in the hands of its friend?" I answered, "It shall be re-opened as soon as I receive official authority from your association to do it, and I will resign my position in this work." In reply to this, the Rev. Mr. Smith, a member of the New York Division, came to Washington and authorized me to secure a part of the asylum building, and reopen it for the children that were in improper houses. I secured a pass by way of Cincinnati, in accordance with the request of Levi Coffin and Rev. E. M. Cravath, of the Middle Division. They had secured good homes for two of the children. I took the others home.

The secretaries and a few other members of the three divisions met in Oberlin to consider further concerning the asylum that had been so unwisely closed. At the close of this consultation I received a letter from Mr. Whipple, of New York, in which he stated that there was much sympathy expressed for me in behalf of the asylum by all except Mr. Shipherd, who said he had done nothing of which I or any one else had any right to complain. He was ordered to return twenty-three boxes and packages of asylum goods to me, as I was acting under their orders in reopening the home; and they sent me fifty dollars for supplies. I gathered in between twenty-five and thirty children that had previously belonged to the home, and bought back what furniture I could that had been sold at a great sacrifice. The corporation appointed me general superintendent of the asylum, and engaged me to devote my whole time to it.

Although to provide means to carry it on was no small task, yet the burden to me seemed light compared with its importance. It had cost great anxiety and effort to accomplish what we had already done. I secured a horse, repaired the buggy, and employed our soldier, Charlie Taft, whose health was much impaired from service in the army. He offered to spend the Winter with us, and render what assistance he could, for his board. Just now our prospects were brighter than at any period since Raisin Institute was converted into a home for harmless little people, to train for useful citizens, instead of tramps, or inmates of prisons.

But, alas! we were doomed to a heavy draft upon our faith. After a very busy day of measuring, cutting, and fitting garments for the little ones, I went in haste to place a bundle of patches in the box in the hall room. It was now dark twilight, and I mistook the cellar door for that of the hall. Passing through, I fell headlong seven feet against the corner of a hard-wood beam. I received many bruises, and the concussion fractured both the inner and outer layers of the left temporal bone, and severed the temporal artery. I was taken up insensible, and it was supposed that life was extinct; but in a few moments signs of life appeared, and a physician was immediately sent for. Great consternation prevailed among the children, and much sympathy was expressed, as well as many prayers offered by them in my behalf.

Brother Smart, pastor of the Methodist Episcopal Church in Adrian, was then holding a series of meetings; and being told of the accident at the evening meeting, he said: "Elder Jacokes informs me that sister Haviland is supposed to be in a dying state from a dangerous fall in the orphan asylum this evening. I propose to pursue my subject no further, but to turn this meeting into a season of prayer for her restoration, if in accordance with the Lord's will; if not, that her mantle may fall upon another, to carry forward that enterprise. The Lord can hear and answer here as readily as by her bedside." He then led in fervent supplication, followed by a few others. Said a friend present: "The announcement fell upon us like an electric shock, and I never heard brother Smart, or those who followed, pray with such power. Then brother Bird arose and said, 'I feel confident that we shall have an answer to our prayers, that sister Haviland will be restored or another take her place.'"

My dear sister in Christ, Elizabeth L. Comstock, was at that time laboring in the Master's vineyard in Chicago. Hearing of the accident by means of the telegram sent to my daughter residing in that city, she mentioned it at the Moody noon prayer-meeting, and requested prayer for my restoration, if it were the Lord's will. I was made the subject of prayer also at Pittsford Wesleyan Methodist protracted meeting.

A letter came from Rev. E. M. Cravath, of Cincinnati, addressed to me. In answer, my daughter, L. J. Brownell, wrote that "mother is unconscious from a dangerous fall, and we (her children) are earnestly praying for her restoration. If our Heavenly Father sees meet to grant our petition, you will receive a reply from her when practicable." The immediate reply was: "You may rest assured our All-wise Father will restore your mother if he has further work for her to do. You may also be assured that her friends in this city are uniting in prayer with her children for her recovery."

I was so nearly conscious at one time that I heard some one say, "She will never speak again." The thought struck me forcibly that I was going to get well, and yet I had no sense of being ill. But I reflected that my children must be very sad at the thought of giving me up, and I would try to say, "I am going to get well." With all the effort I could command I could not utter a syllable. Then I tried to see if my children were present; but I seemed to be in a pure, soft, white cloud, such as we sometimes see floating in the ethereal blue, where I could discover no countenance of those moving around my bed. Consequently I gave over the effort, and was again lost to all consciousness until three days and nights had passed. Then the first returning consciousness was the passing away of that beautiful white cloud, and I recognized my three daughters standing before me. One of them said, "Mother looks as if she knew us." Why, yes, I thought, they are my daughters; but what are their names? and what is my name? Then I surveyed the room. The papered wall, maps, pictures, and furniture all looked familiar; but where am I? Am I in some large city, or in a country place? I am advanced in years; and what have I done in all my life? But I could recall nothing.