impressed, or with such a humbling consciousness of innate infirmity.
The brief pause was broken by the entrance of a lady of commanding height, and of plain garb and countenance. Every eye was fixed on her, and the dignity of her calm benevolence seemed to be felt by all. There was about her the quietude of a soul conversant with high duties, and not to be satisfied with so poor an aliment as the applause of man.
This was Mrs. Fry. With a peculiar melody of voice, and that slow intonation which usually distinguishes the sect to which she belongs, she read from the Bible, and after a few simple remarks and touching admonitions, knelt in prayer. But neither in her comments, nor in the solemn exercise of devotion was there a single allusion, which could harrow up the feelings of the unfortunate beings who surrounded her. Over the past a veil was drawn. It was to the future that she urged them to look, with "newness of life." She came with all gentleness of speech, as to the "lost sheep of the house of Israel." Like a mother to her erring children, she spoke of the infinite compassions of the Redeemer, of the joy that there was among angels, when one sinner repenteth. Those who despairing had said, "no man careth for my soul," laid aside the defiance of guilt, and seemed ready to become as little children.
More than usual feeling was pressed into this interview. It was a parting scene. The class of convicts,
