Owen Wister

Owen Wister

Summary

Portrait of Owen Wister Owen Wister Where Charity begins (1895)

They look at the walls, the benches, the piano, the books, strange and uneasy at first, ready to resist somebody or something. They see groups of their fellows seated apart playing some game like twenty questions, while others are at checkers, and a few—only a few, to be sure—are reading. No spy seems to be at hand; the evening goes on of itself without apparent constraint or direction; coming, going, and staying are equally simple; you do what you please—in short, there is nothing to resist, no authority, no person with a club.
Source: Wikisource

Portrait of Owen Wister Owen Wister Where Charity begins (1895)

To put hand in pocket for the passing beggar undoubtedly blesses him that gives, and I would not go a month without this self-indulgence; but the street penny cuts at the root of no evil, and the cure of one empty stomach seems a fleeting benefit to the race when you might be preventing a dozen from ever going hungry. You must reach the vagrant at the dawn of his day, before he has walked the streets too long, before they have taught him too much. That is the great work to aim at, and nothing I know of hits it so true as the Evening Home of Philadelphia.
Source: Wikisource

Portrait of Owen Wister Owen Wister Where Charity begins (1895)

I looked in upon a department of the industry, a night school for somewhat older boys, who sat round a table ciphering upon slates, and handing their sums to the lady who sits with them, and devotes herself to helping them read, write, and figure—the three old "r's." I will instance among them one student: a young man who lost his work last summer has at present an employment not quite sufficient to feed him, sleeps in an empty house he found convenient, begs his breakfast each morning on his way to work, and each night comes to the lady in the Evening Home to learn arithmetic.
Source: Wikisource

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