We have in America a devoted Christian woman of culture, refinement, and position, with a heart full of love to the most outcast and abandoned. She has devoted much of her life and strength to getting matrons appointed in jails and lockups for the reception and charge of female prisoners. In one city they said to her, “Mrs. Barney, no woman can manage the class of women with whom we have to do.” Mrs. Barney replied, “You never had a prisoner that I could not manage.” “We would like to have you try your hand on ‘Old Sal!’” was the laughing reply. “I would like to,” replied the gentle lady. “Well, the next time we have her under arrest, we will send for you.”
Not long after, early one morning, Mrs. Barney received word that “Old Sal” was under arrest, and she hurried down to the lockup. She asked to be shown to “Old Sal’s” cell. The sergeant at the desk protested that it was not safe. “Look there,” he said to Mrs. Barney, pointing to four policemen with torn clothes and faces, “there is a specimen of ‘Old Sal’s’ handiwork. It took those four men to arrest her and she left them in that shape.” “Never mind” said Mrs. Barney, “show me to her cell.” “Well, if you must go an officer must go with you.” “No, I will go alone. Just let the turnkey open the door, and I will go to her cell alone.”
Before going down, Mrs. Barney asked the sergeant at the desk for “Old Sal’s” right name. “Why,” he said, “we always call her ‘Old Sal.’” “Yes,” said Mrs. Barney, “but I wish her right name. What is her right name?” “It is a long time since we first booked her, and we always book her now as ‘Old Sal.’” “Look up her right name,” said Mrs. Barney. The sergeant went way back through the books and found “Old Sal’s” proper name. The turnkey opened the door and pointed to her cell down the corridor. When Mrs. Barney reached the door, she saw a wild creature with gray, disheveled hair, torn garments, and glaring eyes, crouching in the corner of the cell, waiting to spring upon the first policeman that should enter. “Good morning, Mrs.—,” said Mrs. Barney, calling her by her true name. “Where did you get that name?” said the poor creature. Without answering her question, Mrs. Barney said, “Sarah, do you remember the first time that you were committed here?” “My God, don’t I?” she cried. “I spent the whole night crying on the floor of my cell.” “Suppose,” said Mrs. Barney, “there had been some kind Christian woman here to receive you that night and to have treated you gently do you think your life would have been any different?” “Altogether different,” she replied. “Well,” said Mrs. Barney, “I am trying to get them to appoint a woman in this lockup to receive young girls when they are brought here for the first time, as you were when you were brought here that first night. Will you help me?” “I will do all that I can,” she said. All the time Mrs. Barney had been drawing nearer, and was now kneeling by her side upon the cell floor, gathering up her torn and grizzled, hair, fastening it up with pins taken out of her own hair, pulling together the torn shreds of her garments, and fastening them with pins taken from her own garments.
The work was now done, and Mrs. Barney rising to her feet said, “Sarah, we are going into the courtroom. If you will be good, they will appoint a woman in this lockup. Shall I go in on your arm, or will you go in on mine?” The strong woman looked at Mrs. Barney, and said, “I think I am stronger than you. You had better go in on my arm.” And into court they went, the gentle lady leaning on the arm of the hardened old criminal. “Old Sal” restrained herself through the whole trial, and answered the judge’s questions pleasantly.
She did forget herself once and swear at the judge, but immediately begged his pardon. Everybody was amazed at the transformation. A woman was appointed as matron of the jail, but best of all Sallie got her feet upon the Rook of Ages, and today, “Old Sal” is in the glory. Love had conquered. It always will.