She had neither position in the world, nor money. I do not know that she was in any way distinguished by her intellect; but she had what is better far, a large heart—a loving, Christ-like heart. Seeing many poor boys employed in the foundries, who, early taught lessons of vice, could say, “No man careth for my soul,” she had compassion on the lads. “I am but a poor working girl,” she said to herself, “but I will try, in a loving spirit, if I can win them to Christ and to what is good.”
A noble resolution! So soon as formed, she sought to carry it into practice, asking and getting the use of a room below the factory where she wrought. She opened it one Lord’s day in June, 1862; and before long had gathered in some forty ragged and dirty lads from smoking clubs and back courts, where they were wont to spend their Sundays in gambling and rude play. For two years the factory girl persevered in this course, willing to spend and be spent for Christ; nor did she abandon a work she loved so well till failing health compelled her to resign it into the hands of others. Her efforts to bless and save those boys were not confined to Sundays, for they engaged her spare time throughout the week.
Abundant in labors, in season and out of season, as soon as the day’s work was over, this noble girl took her way to the homes of the boys—if homes many of their lodgings could be called. She knew all the boys—their sad histories, their dangers and hardships; and by her Christian principles, her winning ways and overflowing kindness, she gained an influence over them which was productive of the happiest results. God owned her labors, and several of the lads underwent a saving change. Some are now adorning the doctrine of God their Saviour, who, be it remembered, were not turned from the error of their ways by ministers, preachers or parents, but a poor factory girl. So distinguished, indeed, from others of the same class and calling were those under her training, that “Mary Anne’s boys” became a proverb in the foundries.
It makes one sad to think how many Christians, with tenfold more time, more money, more education, more influence, have not done a tithe of the good this girl did. If any might have justly pleaded the excuse, “Am I my brother’s keeper?” it surely was one who found it hard to keep herself, and who, starting each morning to the sound of the factory bell, and hurrying along dark and silent streets, had gone through hours of work ere half the world was awake. Her story may make the writer, and also most of his readers, ashamed of the little they have done. Let the best and busiest of us resolve to do more for Christ, more for a perishing world.