Mrs. Fry’s journals contain very few particulars relating to her work at this precise time.  It seemed most agreeable to her to work quietly and unknown as far as the outside public was concerned.  But a lady-worker who was in the Association has left on record a manuscript journal from which some extracts may fitly be given here, as they cast valuable light on both the work and workers.

We proceeded to the felons’ door, the steps of which were covered with their friends, who were waiting for admission, laden with the various provisions and other articles which they required, either as gifts, or to be purchased, as the prisoners might be able to afford.  We entered with this crowd of persons into an ante-room, the walls of which were covered with the chains and fetters suspended in readiness for the criminals.  A block and hammer were placed in the centre of it, on which chains were riveted.  The room was guarded with blunderbusses mounted on movable carriages.  I trembled, and was sick, and my heart sunk within me, when a prisoner was brought forward to have his chain lightened, because he had an inflammation in the ankle.  I spoke to him, for he looked dejected and by no means ferocious.  The turnkey soon opened the first gate of entrance, through which we were permitted to pass without being searched, in consequence of orders issued by the sheriffs.  The crowd waited till the men had been searched by the turnkeys, and the women by a woman stationed for that purpose in the little room by the door of the entrance.  These searchers are allowed, if they suspect spirits, or ropes, or instruments of escape to be concealed about the person, to strip them to ascertain the fact.  A melancholy detection took place a few days ago.  A poor woman had a rope found upon her, concealed for the purpose of liberating her husband, who was then sentenced to death for highway robbery, which sentence was to be put into execution in a few days.  She was, of course, taken before a magistrate, and ordered into Newgate to await her trial.  She was a young and pretty little Irish woman, with an infant in her arms.  After passing the first floor into a passage, we arrived at the place where the prisoners’ friends communicate with them.  It may justly be termed a sort of iron cage.  A considerable space remains between the grating, too wide to admit of their shaking hands.  They pass into this from the airing-yard, which occupies the centre of the quadrangle round which the building runs, and into which no persons but the visiting ladies, or the persons they introduce, attended by a turnkey, are allowed to enter.  A little lodge, in which an under turnkey sleeps, is also considered necessary to render the entrance secure.  This yard was clean, and up and down it paraded an emaciated woman, who gave notice to the women of the arrival of their friends.  Most of the prisoners were collected in a room newly appropriated