occupied a post near the platform; and after a little time the Queen, now aged and infirm, perceived her. As soon as the examination of the children was over she advanced to Mrs. Fry. Her Majesty’s small figure, her dress blazing with diamonds, her courtesy and kindness as she spoke to the now celebrated Quakeress, who stood outwardly calm in the costume of her creed, and just a little flushed with the unwonted excitement, attracted universal homage. Around stood several bishops, peers, and peeresses; the hall was filled with spectators, while outside the crowd surged and swayed as crowds are wont to do. For a few moments the two women spoke together; then the strict rules of etiquette were overcome by the enthusiasm of the assembly, and a murmur of applause, followed by a ringing English cheer, went up. This cheer was repeated by the crowd outside, again and again, while the most worldly butterfly that ever buzzed and fluttered about a Court learnt that day that there was in goodness and benevolence something better than fashion and nobler than rank. This was almost, if not quite, Queen Charlotte’s last public appearance; she very soon afterwards passed to her rest, “old and full of days.”
Ever true to her own womanly instincts, we find Mrs. Fry lamenting, in her journal, that herself and the prison are become quite a show; yet, on the other hand, she recognised the good of this inconvenience, inasmuch as the work spread among all classes of society. Various opinions were passed upon her, and on one occasion a serious misunderstanding with Lord Sidmouth, respecting a case of capital punishment, severely tried her constancy. Some carping critics found fault, others were envious, others censorious and shallow; but neither good report nor evil report moved
