IT was a lovely evening, near the end of October, in the year 1832, when a young German student, Immanuel, who was better known in after years by the name of Dr. Wichern, left his house in Hamburg to visit some very poor people who lived in a narrow dirty court not far from the waterside in that busy port.
It was not the first visit Dr. Wichern had paid to the wretched homes of the boys who were his Sunday scholars, for at the time my story begins, the cholera, which had raged during the hot months of July and August, was still lingering in Hamburg, and all Dr. Wichern's boys were very poor. Some who were just getting better after an attack of cholera, needed the good food taken to them by their kind teacher, and others, having lost one or both parents, were orphans.
The young doctor had a kind heart, and it grieved him deeply to see the sad sights and hear the tales of suffering that met his eyes and ears, as day by day he went on his mission of mercy. He saw a great work needed to be done, but he could not see clearly how or where to begin it, and so he was led to pray that God would show him the way; and before long the answer came, though I do not think quite in the way in which Dr. Wichern was really looking for it.
He was not a rich man, and he had no great or powerful friends, only a few earnest Christian men and women, whose hearts, like his own, pitied and longed to help the poor neglected boys of their town. And as the little band of workers for Christ prayed and talked together, they felt sure the very best thing to do any lasting good would be to open a home where a few boys who had either no parents, or wicked ones who sent them into the streets to beg or steal, could live, and be taught some way of earning daily bread.
Three months had passed away, much prayer had been made that a house suitable for a home, or money to build one, might be given them by God, when one day one of Dr. Wichern's friends thought of a small house that belonged to him at a village called Horn, a short distance from Hamburg. He knew it was only a poor tumble-down place, but he told the Doctor about it, and they went together to have a look at it. "The Rough House," as it was called, was only a small cottage half in ruins. The roof in some places let in the rain, the windows were broken, but the walls were pretty good, and it had a large garden, with a well of pure water, near which grew the finest chestnut tree in the village.
About the same time, another friend of Dr. Wichern's died, and left some money to repair and furnish "The Rough House," so with a glad and thankful heart he set about his life work. He was not married at the time, and knew he could not afford to pay wages to a housekeeper, but in this difficulty his own dear mother proved a true friend, for she told him she was quite willing to live with her son at "The Rough House," and as far as she could, be a mother to the orphan boys who were to find a home under its roof. When all was ready, and just a year after the October evening I told you about in the beginning of my story, Dr. Wichern and his mother left their home in Hamburg and went to live at "The Rough House." There was no noise, no bustle, no meeting of friends to welcome them. But the gentleman who gave the cottage had hung on the walls of its one small sitting-room a beautiful picture of "Christ blessing little children.”
On November 8th, the first three boys came; by the end of December there were twelve, the youngest five, the oldest eighteen years of age. They were all wild rough boys, more than one had been in prison. One little fellow, only twelve years old, was well known to the police, as ninety-two thefts had been proved against him; another was almost an idiot. They had all been used to telling lies and stealing, and some could hardly speak without using bad words. They had all known what it was to sleep on doorsteps or in empty carts, and one boy had often slept on the ice.
If Dr. Wichern felt a little discouraged when he looked at the rough boys who were to be his first family, he did not let them think he was afraid they were going to give him trouble. He told them in a kind pleasant way that he believed that, with the blessing of the Lord, they could all live useful happy lives. He said he loved them, and would do all in his power to help them. He did not want them to think or talk about all the sin and sorrow of their past lives. His mother, he told them, would be their mother. The poor lads listened very quietly, then looked at each other in wonder, only half-believing Dr. Wichern was really telling them the truth. Nobody had shown much love for them; they had been used to hard names and harder blows, and now Dr. Wichern told them they were to have a home and a mother. Good news indeed, but could it be true?
Yes, it was all true, for Dr. Wichern and his gentle mother not only talked about but lived the gospel before these poor outcasts. At first some of them were very rough and troublesome, but love won even their hearts, and long before their first year in "The Rough House" was at an end, Madame Wichern had only to say, "Now boys, I wonder who would like to run an errand or carry a parcel for me," and the answer was quite a bustle of excitement and delight: the boys were all so glad to be of any use to their kind friend, and so pleased to find they were trusted.
Dr. Wichern gave each boy a small plot of ground for a garden, and also a few flower seeds and roots. The young gardeners went about their work with a will, and when it became known that Madame was very fond of flowers, they quite enjoyed giving her pleasant little surprises, by placing tiny nosegays gathered from their own gardens near her plate at breakfast time.
One day a boy ran away. It was the time of a great yearly fair in Hamburg, but as the runaway had no money, he could not buy any of the cakes or other eatables that made such a tempting show on the stalls, so he wandered about cold and hungry, we may be sure, till it began to get dark. A friend of Dr. Wichern's met him, and advised him to return. The boy said he was sorry he had left "The Rough House," and was ashamed to go back, but at last was persuaded to do so. It was late when he arrived, the boys had all had their suppers, and were seated round Madame singing a hymn, while a bright wood fire burned in the stove. How comfortable and homelike it all looked. At that moment Dr. Wichern saw the little wanderer, who stood in the doorway afraid to enter, and after telling him to come in and have some supper, turned to the boys and asked how they would advise the runaway to be treated. "Punish him, Sir, punish him," was the united verdict.
“I will leave you a little while to talk it over, and perhaps you may think of a better way," said Dr. Wichern. When half an hour later he returned to the room, the oldest boy, leading the culprit by the hand, said, “If you please, Sir, we all think now it would be best to FORGIVE him." So the offender was forgiven, and you will be glad to hear, never made another attempt at running off.
But "The Rough House" had its schools, its workshops and Bible classes, as well as pleasant gatherings round the fireside, and I hope to tell you something about all these in my next chapter.