was only intensified, however, by these repeated disappointments, and finally it was resolved that the attempt should be made on Sunday, August 4th, at all risks.  It succeeded.  Drawn by two of her children, in a wheeled chair, she was taken up to the meeting, a few minutes after the hour for commencing worship.  Her husband, children and servants followed behind, fearing whether or no the ordeal would be too heavy for the wasted frame.  But after remaining for some time in the wonted quiet of the sanctuary, an access of strength seemed to be granted her, and in somewhat similar spirit to that of the old patriarchs, when about to bid farewell to the scene of labor and life, she lifted up her voice once more with weighty, solemn words of counsel.  The prominent topic of her discourse was “the death of the righteous.”  She expressed the deepest thankfulness, alluding to her sister-in-law, Elizabeth Fry, for mercies vouchsafed to one who, having labored amongst them, had been called from time to eternity.  She quoted that text, “Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord, for they cease from their labors, and their works do follow them.”  She dwelt on the purposes of affliction, on the utter weakness and infirmity of the flesh, and then tenderly exhorted the young.  She urged the need of devotedness of heart and steadfastness of purpose; she raised a tribute of praise for the eternal hope offered to the Christian, and concluded with these words from Isaiah:  “Thine eyes shall see the King in His beauty; they shall behold the land that is very far off.”  Prayer was afterwards offered by her in a similar strain, and then the meeting ended.  Shortly after this, a removal to Walmer was effected, in the vain hope that the footsteps of death might be retarded.

From one of her letters, written at this date, we quote the following passage:—­

I walk in a low valley, still I believe I may say that the everlasting arms are underneath me, and the Lord is very near.  I pass through deep waters, but I trust, as my Lord is near to me, they will not overflow me.  I need all your prayers in my low estate.  I think the death of my sister, and dear little Gurney, has been almost too much for me.

But Mrs. Fry was to pass through still deeper waters of affliction and trial while in her suffering state.  A visitation of scarlet fever attacked the family of her son William, and, in spite of all medical attentions, he and two of his daughters fell beneath the destroyer’s hand.  A scene of desolation ensued; the servants, as they sickened, were taken to Guy’s Hospital, and the Manor House was deserted, for those members of the household who had escaped the infection had to flee for their lives.  For a time, the dear ones who ministered to Mrs. Fry were too terror-stricken and crushed by the trial to venture on telling their mother all; more than that, they feared for her life also.  But the “Christian’s faith proved stronger than the mother’s anguish.