Honors clustered thickly about her declining days.  She was the welcomed guest of royalty and nobility; on the Continent, as well as in far-away English colonies, her name was pronounced only with respectful love.  Her eldest son was appointed to the magistracy of the county; her relatives and associates were foremost in every enterprise intended to benefit mankind; while both in Parliament and out of it, her recommendations were respectfully adopted.  Had her years been counted on the patriarchal scale, instead of by their own shortened number, she could have reaped no higher honors; for titles were in her ears but empty sounds, and wealth only meant increased responsibility.  Not many nobler souls walked this earth, either in Quaker garb or out of it.

In 1842 her state of health appeared to be so infirm and shattered that her brother-in-law, Mr. Hoare, offered her the loan of his house at Cromer.  She accepted the offer for a couple of months, and found a little benefit for the bracing air.  She mentioned in her diary at this time that she had “an undue fear of an imbecile or childish state”—­a not unlikely feeling to be cherished by an energetic woman accustomed all her life long to the work of helping others.  At the end of October she returned home, thankfully rejoicing, however, in an improved state of health.

But a new series of trials awaited her.  Death seemed to visit the happy family circle so often that one wonders almost where the tale will stop.  Four or five grand-children passed away in rapid succession.  After the funeral of the first grand-child, she assembled the family party in the evening, and with a little of the old fire and yearning affection, gave them exhortation and consolation.  Then she prayed for all the members of the three generations present.  After this funeral service she paid a final visit to France; and then returned home, to descend still further into the valley of suffering.

Her sister-in-law—­also named Elizabeth Fry—­died during this time of weakness and pain.  There had been a close bond of sympathy between these two women; they had travelled many times together as ministers in the Society of Friends, and had been united by the closest bonds of womanly and Christian affection.  The faithful sister-in-law preceded the philanthropist to “the better land,” by about fifteen months.

In the summer of 1844 she attended her beloved meeting at Plaistow once more.  She had been so long in declining health, that meeting with the associates of former years, for worship, had been of necessity an enjoyment altogether out of the question.  But Sunday after Sunday, as the “church-going bell” resounded on the still morning air, her spirit yearned to worship God after the manner of her sect.  Still, for weeks the attempt was an abortive one.  The difficult process of dressing was never accomplished until long after 11 o’clock, the hour when the meeting assembled.  The desire