Elizabeth Fry | Page 9

on, any of
these outward enjoyments. It is certainly to me a time of sunshine."
CHAPTER IV.
A COUNTRY HOME.
The delight expressed in her diary upon her removal to Plashet, found
vent in efforts to beautify the grounds. The garden-nooks and
plantations were filled with wild flowers, gathered by herself and
children in seasons of relaxation, and transferred from the coppices,
hedgerows and meadows, to the grounds, which appeared to her to be
only second in beauty to Earlham. Mrs. Fry was possessed of a keen
eye for Nature's beauties. Quick to perceive, and eager to relish the
delights of the fair world around, she took pleasure in them, finding
relaxation from the many duties which clustered about her in the spot
of earth on which her lot was cast. Her journal tells of trials and
burdens, and sometimes there peeps out a sentence of regret that the
ideal which she had formed of serving God, in the lost years of youth,
had been absorbed in "the duties of a careworn wife and mother." Yet
what she fancied she had lost in this waiting-time had been gained,
after all, in preparation. This quiet, domestic life was not what she had
looked forward to when in the first flush of youthful zeal. Still, she was
thereby trained to deal with the young and helpless, to enter into
sorrows and woes, and to understand and sympathize with quiet
suffering. But the time was coming for more active outward service,
and when the call came Elizabeth Fry was found ready to obey it.
Towards the end of 1809 her father died, after great suffering;
summoned by one of her sisters, Elizabeth hurried down to Earlham to
catch, if possible, his parting benediction. She succeeded in arriving
soon enough to bear her much-loved parent company during his last
few hours of life, and to hear him express, again and again, his
confidence in the Saviour, who, in death, was all-sufficient for his
needs. As he passed away, her faith and confidence could not forbear

expression, and, kneeling at the bedside, she gave utterance to words of
thanksgiving for the safe and happy ending of a life which had been so
dear to her. The truth was, a burden had been weighing her down for
some time past, causing her to question herself most seriously as to
whether she were willing to obey "the inward voice" which prompted
her to serve God in a certain way. This specific way was the way of
preaching in Meeting, or "bearing testimony," as she phrased it, "at the
prompting of the Holy Spirit." It will be remembered that this is a
distinguishing peculiarity of the society which George Fox founded.
Preaching is only permitted upon the spur of the moment, as people of
the world would say, but at the prompting of the inward voice, as
Quakers deem. Certainly no one ever became a preacher among the
Friends "for a piece of bread." If fanatics sometimes "prophesied" out
of the fullness of excited brains, or fervid souls, no place-hunter
adopted the pulpit as a profession. Only, sometimes, it needs the
presence of an overwhelming trial to bring out the latent strength in a
person's nature; and this trial was furnished to Elizabeth Fry in the
shape of her father's death. The thanksgiving uttered by her at his death
was also publicly repeated at the funeral, probably with additional
words, and from that time she was known as a "minister."
In taking this new departure she must not be confounded with some
female orators of the present age, who often succeed in turning
preaching into a hideous caricature. She was evidently ripening for her
remarkable work, and while doing so was occasionally irresistibly
impelled to give utterance to "thoughts that breathe and words that
burn." Still, after reaching the quiet of Plashet, and reviewing calmly
her new form of service, she thus wrote, what seemed to be both a
sincere and common-sense judgment upon herself:--
I was enabled coming along to crave help; in the first place, to be made
willing either to do or to suffer whatever was the Divine will
concerning me. I also desired that I might not be so occupied with the
present state of my mind as to its religious duties, as in any degree to
omit close attention to all daily duties, my beloved husband, children,
servants, poor, etc. But, if I should be permitted the humiliating path
that has appeared to be opening before me, to look well at home, and

not discredit the cause I desire to advocate.
Wise counsels these, to herself! No woman whose judgment is
well-balanced, and whose womanly-nature is finely strung, but will
regard the path to the rostrum with shrinking and dismay. Either the
desire to save