Though I have not hitherto felt free in mind to write to thee, my very dear friend, under thy present most severe trial, thou hast been continually, I may say, in my thoughts, brought feelingly and solemnly before me, both day and night.  I must also tell thee that, two nights ago, I had a pleasing, cheering dream of thee:—­I saw thee looking thy best, dressed with peculiar care and neatness, and smiling so brightly that I could not help stroking thy cheek, and saying, “Dear friend! it is quite delightful to me to see thee looking thus again, so like the Betsey Fry of former days;” and then I woke.  But this sweet image of thee lives with me still....  Since your trials were known, I have rarely, if ever, opened a page of Scripture without finding some promise applicable to thee and thine.  I do not believe that I was looking for them, but they presented themselves unsought, and gave me comfort and confidence.  Do not suppose, dear friend, that I am not fully aware of the peculiar bitterness and suffering which attends this trial in thy situation to thy own individual feeling; but, then, how precious and how cheering to thee must be the evidence it has called forth, of the love and respect of those who are near and dear to thee, and of the public at large.  Adversity is indeed the time to try the hearts of our friends; and it must be now, or will be in future, a cordial to thee to remember that thou hast proved how truly and generally thou art beloved and reverenced.

Mrs. Fry’s health failed very much during the dreary months which followed.  Nor was this all, for trials, mental and spiritual, seemed to crowd around her.  It was indeed, though on a scale fitted to her capacity, “the hour and power of darkness.”  She says in her journal, that her soul was bowed down within her, and her eyes were red with weeping.  Yet she rallied again.  After spending some months with their eldest son, William, at Mildred’s Court, Mr. and Mrs. Fry removed to a small but convenient villa in Upton Lane, nearly adjoining the house and grounds of her brother, Samuel Gurney.  This house was not only to be a place of refuge in the dark and cloudy days of calamity, but to become, in its turn, famous for the visits of princes and nobles, who thus sought to do honor to her who dwelt in it.  Writing in her journal, on June 10th, 1829, Mrs. Fry said:—­

We are now nearly settled in this, our new abode; and I may say, although the house and garden are small, yet it is pleasant and convenient and I am fully satisfied, and, I hope, thankful for such a home.  I have at times been favored to feel great peace, and I may say joy in the Lord—­a sort of seal to the important step taken; though at others the extreme disorder into which our things have been brought by all these changes, the pain of leaving Plashet, the difficulty of making new arrangements, has harassed and tried me.  But I trust it will please a kind Providence to bless my endeavor to have and to keep my house