Soon after Lloyd's return to Newburyport a cancerous tumor developed on her shoulder, from the effects of which she died September 3, 1823, at the age of forty-five.

More than a decade after her death her son wrote: "She has been dead almost eleven years; but my grief at her loss is as fresh and poignant now as it was at that period;" and he breaks out in praise of her personal charms in the following original lines: "She was the masterpiece of womankind-- In shape and height majestically fine; Her cheeks the lily and the rose combined; Her lips--more opulently red than wine; Her raven locks hung tastefully entwined; Her aspect fair as Nature could design; And then her eyes! so eloquently bright! An eagle would recoil before her light." The influence of this superb woman was a lasting power for truth and righteousness in the son's stormy life.

For a whole year after her death, the grief of the printer's lad over his loss, seemed to have checked the activity of his pen.

For during that period nothing of his appeared in the _Herald_.

But after the sharp edge of his sorrow had worn off, his pen became active again in the discussion of public men and public questions.