he Lord has led me."

How in later years she regarded certain features of this experience, is
not fully known. The record passed at once out of her hands, and until
after her death was never seen by anyone, excepting the friend for whose
eye it was written. Many of its details had, probably, faded entirely
from her memory. It can not be doubted, however, that she would have
judged her previous state much less severely, would hardly have charged
it with hypocrisy, or denied that the Saviour had been graciously
leading her, and that she had some real love to Him, before as well as
after this crisis. So much may be inferred from the record itself and
from the narrative in the preceding chapter. Her tender interest in the
spiritual welfare of her friends and pupils, the high tone of religious
sentiment that marks her early writings, the books she delighted in, her
filial devotion, the absolute sincerity of her character, all forbid
any other conclusion. [3] The indications, too, are very plain that her
morbidly-sensitive, melancholy temperament had much to do with this
experience. Her account of it shows, also, that her mind was unhappily
affected by certain false notions of the Christian life and ordinances
then, and still, more or less prevalent--notions based upon a too narrow
and legal conception of the Gospel. Hence, her shrinking from the Lord's
table as a place of "torture," instead of regarding it in its true
character, as instituted on purpose to feed hungry souls, like her own,
with bread from heaven. But for all that, the experience was a blessed
reality and, as these pages will attest, wrought a lasting change in her
religious life. No doubt the Spirit of God was leading her through all
its dark and terrible mazes. It virtually ended a conflict which the
intensely proud elements of her nature rendered inevitable, if she was
to become a true heroine of faith--the conflict between her Master's
will and her own. Her Master conquered, and henceforth to her dying hour
His will was the sovereign law of her existence, and its sweetest joy
also.

The following extracts from letters to her cousin, George E. Shipman,
of New York, now widely known as the founder of a Foundling Home at
Chicago, will throw additional light upon her state of mind at this
period. Mr. Shipman was the friend to whom the account of her experience
already mentioned was addressed. He had just spent several weeks in
Portland, and to his Christian s