Among the many striking features in your mother's correspondence, her love to the Word of God, and her desire for its general circulation, were very apparent. Evidently, that sacred book was the fountain whence she herself derived all that strength and grace to carry on her work of faith and labor of love, which her Divine Master so richly blessed.... In December 1827, when accompanying the Emperor Nicholas through the new Litoffsky Prison, he was not only well pleased to find every cell fully supplied with the Scriptures--the rich result of his having confirmed the late Emperor Alexander's orders to give the Scriptures gratis to all the prisoners--but on seeing some Jews in the prison he said to me: "I hope you also furnish these poor people with them, that they may become Christians; I pity them." I witnessed a most touching scene on the Emperor's entering the debtors' room; three old, venerable, gray-headed men fell on their knees and cried, "Father, have mercy on us!" The Emperor stretched out his hand in the peculiar grandeur of his manner, and said: "Rise; all your debts are paid; from this moment you are free"; without knowing the amount of the debts, one of which was very considerable. I hope this feeble attempt to detail a little of your dear mother's useful work may be acceptable, leaving you to make what use of it you think proper.
Such testimonies as these must have been peculiarly grateful to Mrs. Fry's family, because it is natural to desire not only success in any good work, but also grateful remembrance and appreciation, of it. Sometimes, however, the reverse was the case; even those whom she had endeavored to serve had turned out ungrateful, impudent and hardened. Yet her loving pity followed even them: still, like the Lord whom she served, she loved them in spite of their repulsiveness and ingratitude. And when some notably ungrateful things were reported to her respecting the female convicts on board the _Amphitrite_, she only prayed and sorrowed for them the more. Especially was this the case when she heard that the ship had gone down on the French coast, bearing to their tomb beneath the sad sea waves, the 120 women, with their children, being conveyed in her to New South Wales. Not one hard thought did she entertain of them: all was charity, sorrow and tenderness. And if for one little moment her new theories as to the treatment of criminals seemed to be broken down, never for an instant did she set them aside. She knew that perfection could only be attained after many long years of trial and probation. While undermining the old ideas, she set herself an equally gigantic task in establishing the new.