lips in a few words."
She neglected to say that these few words introduced the subject to the
meetings, and produced such deep feeling that many hitherto wavering
ones went away strengthened and encouraged.

They also attended Yearly Meeting at Newport, where many friends were
made; and where Angelina's conversations on the subject which absorbed
all her thoughts produced such an impression that she was strongly
urged to remain in New England, and become an anti-slavery missionary
in the Society of Friends. But she did not feel that she could stay,
as, she says, it was shown her very clearly that Shrewsbury was her
right place for the summer, though why, she knew not. The reason was
plainly revealed a little later.

She returned to Shrewsbury refreshed and strengthened, and feeling that
her various experiences had helped her to see more clearly where her
duty and her work lay. But she was saddened by the conviction that if
she gave herself up, as she felt she must, to the anti-slavery cause,
she would be cast loose from her peaceful home, and from very many dear
friends, to whom she was bound by the strongest ties of gratitude and
affection. She thus writes to a friend:--

"Didst thou ever feel as if thou hadst no home on earth, except in the
bosom of Jesus? I feel so now."

For several weeks after her return to Shrewsbury, Angelina tried to
withdraw her mind from the subject which her sister thought was taking
too strong hold on it, and interfering with her spiritual needs and
exercises. Out of deference to these views, she resumed her studies,
and tried to become interested in a "History of the United States on
Peace Principles," which she had thought some time before of writing.
Then she began the composition of a little book on the "Beauty and Duty
of Forgiveness, as Illustrated by the Story of Joseph," but gave that
up to commence a sacred history. In this she did become much interested
for a time, but her mind was too heavily burdened to permit her to
remain tranquil long. Still the question was ever before her: "Is there
nothing that I can do?" She tried to be cheerful, but felt at all times
much more like shedding tears. And her suffering was greater that it
was borne alone. The friend, Mrs. Parker, whom she was visiting, was a
comparative stranger, whose views she had not yet ascertained, and whom
she feared to trouble with her perplexities. Of Sarah, so closely
associated with Catherine Morris, she could n