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The day book. (Chicago, Ill.) 1911-1917, July 10, 1912, Image 11

Image and text provided by University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign Library, Urbana, IL

Persistent link: http://chroniclingamerica.loc.gov/lccn/sn83045487/1912-07-10/ed-1/seq-11/

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Ir Kli
New York, June 10. It is a
very tiny room and very gay. A
big bunch of pink roses blooms on
a ruddy table in the corner and
sheer white curtains flutter at the
window. A dozen
lovelypictures hang
against the blue and
buff walls, and easy
chairs and settees,'
softly - .cushioned,
are fixed comfort
ably about. But
This is the saddest room in the
For, into this gay little place,
there come every year Three
Thousand Mothers. They come
with their babies their dear, lit
tle new-born babies and they go
without their babies.. And they
never see their babies again I
This room, this "saddest room
in. the world," is the room just in
side the low-arched door that
leads into the Foundlings' hospi
tal in New York city.
The Sisters of Charity run the
Foundlings' hospital. One of
them is always secluded in a little
niche that is cut into the side of
this "saddest room." The' do not
leave this station when a mother
comes to say her last goodbye to
the baby that has only just come
to her unless the grief becomes
too great. Then they come out
and offer whatever solace one can
offer to the woundeS mother
heart as,the-dearest-thing-in-all-the-
world is being laid once-and-for
all in the "cradle of tears" that
stands in "the saddest room, in
all the world."
Of all the mothers who ever
came to the big brick hospital
down on the east side, Sister
Agatha remembers Leonore the
'best. Leonore was just eighteen
and she did love her baby so.
Time after time she tried to lay
Joe-y into the little white cradle
but she just couldn't.
Finally Sister Agatha stepped
out of her niche quietly, as did
Sister Beatrice of old when she,
too, gave all for love.
"Peace, my dear, peace," she
breathed to Leonore, to 18-yea'r-old
Leonore, on whose slim shoul
ders rested the most awful sor
row the world has knowledge of.
"But I love him so I love him
so," the little girl sobbed.
"I know that, my dear," said
Sister Agatha, "but to do what
you have to do bravely that is
what I want from you. Do it for
Joe'y that he may have the brav
est mother that ever a son could
"I know I know but, Sister,
that isn't all of it. They say I am
a bad girl. That I have sinned.
And that is the worst of all to
think that Joe-y's mother should
be a bad girl that my little Joe
should be 'born in sin.' "
"And then I told her the truth,"
said sweet, white-haired Sister
Agatha, as she related the story
of Leonore and her lost son,
T told her what I, an old
woman, know to be the 'truth, I
told her that no mother can sin.
The women who sin are the worn-
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