An unsavory locality known as "Irish Row," about half a mile off, soon
attracted her attention. The slatternliness, suffering, shiftlessness,
dirt and raggedness, were inducements to one of her charitable
temperament to visit its inhabitants, having their relief and
improvement in view; while her appreciation of the warm-heartedness and
drollery of the Irish character afforded her genuine pleasure. Proximity
to English life had not refined these Irish; their houses were just as
filthy, their windows as patched and obscured with rags, their children
just as neglected, and their pigs equally familiar with those children
as if they had lived in the wilds of Connemara. Shillalahs, wakes,
potatoes, and poverty were distinguishing characteristics of the
locality; whilst its inhabitants were equally ready, with the free and
easy volatility of the Irish mind, to raise the jovial song, or utter
the cry of distress.

The priest and spiritual director of "Irish Row" found himself almost
powerless in the presence of this mass of squalid misery. That Mrs. Fry
was a Quaker and a Protestant, did not matter to him, provided she could
assist in raising this debased little colony into something like orderly
life and decency. So he cooperated with her, and with his consent she
gave away Bibles and tracts, vaccinated and taught the children, as well
as moved among them generally in the character of their good genius.
When delicate and weak, she would take the carriage, filled with
blankets and clothes for distribution, down to Irish Row, where the
warm-hearted recipients blessed their "Lady bountiful" in terms more
voluble and noisy than refined. Still, however unpromising, the soil
bore good fruit. Homes grew more civilized, men, women, and children
more respectable and quiet, while everywhere the impress of a woman's
benevolent labors was apparent.