Her grief did not, however, prevent her taking an active interest in the sorrows and sufferings of others. She was engaged in collecting for the relief of the poor Irish, and says:—
Oh! the horrible state of things in that country; without our aid they say the poor people must perish! I am collecting for the Ladies’ Committee at Dunmanaway, near Cork; a very distressed district, but small and with few rich residents in it, therefore the more needing help. I let no day pass without having, in the course of it, begged of some one. I take sixpence or a shilling with thanks; and I have accepted twopence from a little boy, who sent it to me because he knew what it was to be hungry himself. I have a humble agent at work to procure small sums, as my Irish ladies advise; and have a little money still in hand, which I hope to make more. We shall one day perhaps know scenes here like those in Ireland, and trials which wealth cannot help us to avoid or remove, but “shall not the judge of all the earth do right?”
In the spring of this year Mrs. Opie paid her usual visit to Cromer. While there, the tidings of Dr. Chalmers’ death reached her. She wrote home requesting to have the lines she had addressed to him in 1833 sent to her; and acknowledged the receipt of them in the following letter:—
TO MRS. BRIGHTWELL.
Cromer, 6th mo., 5th, 1847.
My dear Friend,
* * * I do not exactly know to whom I was indebted for the great kindness of copying for me my lines to poor dear Dr. Chalmers,[[45]] but perhaps the same pen (it was thine I think) would do me the same favour again. I am very desirous of having them, though ashamed of troubling thee.
Poor dear man! on his way home to Edinburgh he could not be easy without going to Darlington, to see dear J. J. Gurney’s daughter once more. In his letter to me he said that he hoped one day “to see him before the throne,” or words to that effect; how soon (as I trust) the hope has been fulfilled.
I am here in such a lovely lodging! my sitting-room has a bay-window that looks on the sea and up the shore and on the jetty and the breakwater. I am at Randall’s bath house, and the hot bath is delightful indeed! I think I am better, in spite of visitors. I have had eleven callers already, since ten o’clock!
When I came, the sea was beautiful! yesterday it was awful to look at! the white horses, the cavalry of the sea, were all out yesterday. Alas! their appearance was signalized by death; a boat was capsized, and a poor old man drowned, in sight almost of my window. At twilight I looked on the sea, which appeared terribly sublime! The hue grew darker and darker, as the mass of waters seemed sloping upwards as they went, till they looked like a dark mountain bounding forth to engulph us—and I retreated almost in fear. I hope this evening to see the sun set from the western cliff. How beautiful, in my eyes, were the hedges as I came! such a profusion of germander, bright red bachelor’s buttons, the golden furze, and broom, in luxuriant blossom, and the may, only too much laden with flowers; Farewell; with love to thy spouse and bairn,