ntelligent management, and occupation for the prisoners, the wards
still presented pictures of Pandemonium. It needed a second reformer to
take up the work where Howard left it, and to labor on behalf of the
convicts; for in too many cases they were looked upon as possessing
neither right nor place on God's earth. In the olden days, some judges
had publicly declared their preference for hanging, because the criminal
would then trouble neither State nor society any further. But in spite
of Tyburn horrors, each week society furnished fresh wretches for the
gallows; whilst those who were in custody were almost regarded as
"fore-doomed and fore-damned."

During the interval which elapsed between Mrs. Fry's short visits to
Newgate in 1813, and the resumption of those visits in 1817, together
with the inauguration of her special work among the convicts, she was
placed in the crucible of trial. Death claimed several relatives; she
suffered long-continued illness, and experienced considerable losses of
property. All these things refined the gold of her character and
discovered its sterling worth. Some natures grow hard and sullen under
trial, others faithless and desponding, and yet others narrow and
reserved. But the genuine gold of a noble disposition comes out brighter
and purer because of untoward events; unsuspected resources are
developed, and the higher nobility becomes discernable. So it was with
Elizabeth Fry. The constitutional timidity of her nature vanished before
the overpowering sense of duty; and literally she looked not at the
seen, but at the unseen, in her calculations of Christian service. Yet
another part of her discipline was the ingratitude with which many of
her efforts were met. This experience is common to all who labor for the
public weal; and from an entry in her journal we can but conclude that
this "serpent's tooth" pierced her very sorely at times. "A constant
lesson to myself is the ingratitude and discontent which I see in many."
Many a reformer could echo these words. But the abiding trial seemed to
be the remembrance of the loss of her little daughter, Elizabeth, who
passed away after a week of suffering, and who was laid to rest in
Barking churchyard. The memory of this five-year old child remained with
her for many years a pure and holy influence, doubtless prompting her
to deal tenderly with the young strayed ones whom she met in her errands
of mercy. How often the memory of "the touch of a v