I was reading an evening paper. I glanced over the advertisements. One
attracted my attention, and held it so strongly that I read it over and
over, again and again. There was nothing unusual in it to ordinary
observation. It read, "Wanted.--At the Penitentiary, a Matron. Inquire
at the Institution."
I turned the paper over to read the general news; but could not place my
thoughts so as to comprehend the meaning of the words before my sight.
Without the intention to do so, I looked again at the advertisement. It
became a study to me.
Said Thought--If you were to answer that advertisement, and obtain the
situation, it would place you upon missionary ground, and at the same
time give you employment which would afford you a support while you are
teaching the ignorant. You would get knowledge in the position. A new
phase of life would be opened to your view. You would have an
opportunity to observe, practically, how well the present system of
prison discipline is adapted to reform convicts, and repress crime. But
the cost is too much. I cannot become a Matron in a Penitentiary.
I laid the paper down, without reading it, because I could see nothing
in it except that advertisement.
The next day I went in town, sat down in the office of a friend, and
took up a morning paper. No sooner had I opened it than that
advertisement spread itself out before me. It changed the form of its
appeal; left out what my selfishness might gain, to enlist my compassion
and aid, entirely, in what I might accomplish for others. It called to
me, in piteous tones, to go work for the prisoner. It was the echo of a
voice that I long ago heard, Come into our prisons, and help us, we
beseech you!
I cannot! I have other things to do, and they are as much for the
benefit of humanity as anything I may be able to accomplish for you. My
spirit darkened as I made the answer; a cloud of guilt settled down upon
it. I threw down the paper in order to dissipate it, and to avoid the
plea.
I turned and talked with my friend; but my thoughts were not in what we
were saying. That advertisement followed them, and filled them to the
exclusion of every other subject.
In the abstraction which it caused the hour in which I was to leave the
city passed, and I missed my train. I must remain and avail myself of
another.
While I was waiting, that advertisement returned to my reflections, and
urged its cause imperatively as a command. It was a call, to me,
resistless as the voice that awoke the young Israelitish Prophet from
his slumbers. In another moment the struggle with my pride was over, and
my spirit answered,--I will go, even to lust-besotted Sodom if thou
leadest, Light of my path!
I seated myself in a street car, went to the prison, applied for the
place, and obtained it.
Day by day I wrote down what I saw and heard, what I said and did. Why?
In obedience to the same Voice that called me to the work.
The tale is before you.
May it touch the heart of every one who reads the story, and melt it
into a compassion which will labor for the redemption of the prisoner;
into a pity which will echo around the cry--Open the prison doors, not
to let the prisoner go free, but to let in, to him, the light of moral
knowledge, and the discipline of Christian charity.