about nineteen years of age.

As a beginning, she left off many pleasures such as might have reasonably been considered innocent. For instance, she abandoned her "scarlet riding-habit," she laid aside all personal ornament, and occupied her leisure time in teaching poor children. She commenced a small school for the benefit of the poor children of the city, and in a short time had as many as seventy scholars under her care. How she managed to control and keep quiet so many unruly specimens of humanity, was a standing problem to all who knew her; but it seems not unlikely that those qualities of organization and method which afterwards distinguished her were being trained and developed. Added to these, must be taken into account the power which a strong will always has over weaker minds—an important factor in the matter. Still more must be taken into account the strong, earnest longing of an enthusiastic young soul to benefit those who were living around her. Earnest souls make history. History has great things to tell of men and women of faith; and Elizabeth Gurney's life-work colored the history of that age. A brief sentence from her journal at this time explains the attitude of her mind towards the outcast, poor, and neglected: "I don't remember ever being at any time with one who was not extremely disgusting, but I felt a sort of love for them, and I do hope I would sacrifice my life for the good of mankind." Very evidently, William Savery's prophesy was coming to pass in the determination of the young Quakeress to do good in her generation.

CHAPTER III.

ST. MILDRED'S COURT.

After a visit in the north of England with her father and sisters, Elizabeth received proposals of marriage from Mr. Joseph Fry of London. His family, also Quakers, were wealthy and of good position; but for some time Elizabeth seemed to hesitate about entering on married life. Far from looking on marriage as the goal of her ambition, as is the fashion with many young women, she was divided in her mind as to the relative advantages of single and married life, as they might affect philanthropic and religious work. After consultation with her friends, however, the offer was accepted, and on August 19th, 1800, when she was little more than twenty years of age, she was married to Mr. Fry, in the Friends' Meeting House, at Norwich. Very quickly after bidding her school-children farewell, Mrs. Fry proceeded to St. Mildred's Court, London, her husband's place of business, where she commenced to take up the first duties of wedded life, and where several of her children were born.

The family into which she married was a Quaker family of the strictest order. So far from being singular by her orthodoxy of manners and appearance, she was, in the midst of the Frys, "the gay, instead of the plain and scrupulous one of the family." For a little time she experienced some difficulty in reconciling her accustomed habits with the straight tenets of her husband's household and connections, but in the end succeeded. It seems singular that one so extremely conscientious as Elizabeth Fry, should have been considered to fall behindhand in that self-denying plainness of act and speech which characterized others; but so it was. And so determined was she to serve God according to her light, that no mortification of the flesh was counted too severe provided it would further the great end she had in view. Her extreme conscientiousness became manifest in lesser things; such, for instance, as anxiety to keep the strict truth, and that only, in all kinds of conversation.

Thus, she wrote in her journal:—

I was told by —— he thought my manners had too much of the courtier in them, which I know to be the case, for my disposition leads me to hurt no one that I can avoid, and I do sometimes but just keep to the truth with people, from a natural yielding to them in such things as please them. I think doing so in moderation is pleasant and useful in society. It is among the things that produce the harmony of society; for the truth must not be spoken out at all times, at least not the whole truth. Perhaps I am wrong—I do not know if I am—but it will not always do to tell our minds.... I am one of those who try to serve God and Mammon. Now, for instance, if I wish to say anything I think right to anyone, I seldom go straight to the point, but mostly by some softening, round-about way, which, I fear, is very much from wishing to please man more than his Maker!

It is evident that Elizabeth Fry dared to be singular; very possibly only such self-renouncing singularity could have borne such remarkable fruits of philanthropy. It required some such independent, philosophical character as hers to strike out a new path for charitable effort.

During the continuance of the Yearly Meeting in London, the home in St. Mildred's Court was made a house of entertainment for the Friends who came from all parts of the country. It was a curious sight to see the older Friends, clad in the quaint costume of that age, as they mingled with the more fashionably or moderately dressed Quakers. The sightseers of London eighty years ago must have looked on amused at what they considered the vagaries of those worthy folks. The old Quaker ladies are described as wearing at that date a close-fitting white cap, over which was placed a black hood, and out of doors a low-crowned broad beaver hat. The gowns were neatly made of drab camlet, the waists cut in long peaks, and the skirts hanging in ample folds. For many years past these somewhat antiquated garments have been discarded for sober "coal-scuttles," and silk dresses of black or gray, much to the improvement of the fair wearer's appearance. These Friends were entertained at Mr. Fry's house heartily, and almost religiously. And doubtless many people who were of the "salt of the earth" were numbered among Mr. Fry's guests, while his young wife moved among them the embodiment of refined lady-like hospitality and high principle. Doubtless, too, the quiet home-talk of these worthy folks was only one degree less solemn and sedate than their utterances at Yearly Meeting.

Mrs. Fry followed up her chosen path in ministering to the sick and poor among the slums of London. She visited them at their homes, and traversed dirty courts and uninviting alleys in the quest of individuals needing succor. Sometimes she was made the instrument of blessing; but at other times, like all philanthropists, she was deceived and imposed upon. One day a woman accosted her in the street, asking relief, and holding an infant who was suffering evidently with whooping-cough. Mrs. Fry offered to go to the woman's house with the intention of investigating and relieving whatever real misery may have existed. To her surprise the mendicant slunk away as if unwilling to be visited; but Mrs. Fry was determined to track her, and at last brought her to earth. The room—a filthy, dirty, poverty-cursed one—contained a number of infants in every conceivable stage of illness and misery. Horror-stricken, Mrs. Fry requested her own medical attendant to visit this lazar-house; but on going thither next morning he found the woman and her helpless brood of infants gone. It then turned out that this woman "farmed" infants; deliberately neglected them till she succeeded in killing them off, and then concealed their deaths in order to continue to receive the wretched pittances allowed for their maintenance. Such scenes and facts as these must have opened the eyes of Mrs. Fry to the condition of the poorest classes of that day, and educated her in self-denying labor on their behalf.

She also took an interest in educational matters, and formed an acquaintance with Joseph Lancaster, the founder of the Monitorial system, and quickly turned her talents to account in visiting the workhouse and school belonging to the Society of Friends at Islington.

About this time, one sister was married to Mr. Samuel Hoare, and another to Sir Thomas