ire
conversion to Quakerism.

She had now reached, she thought, a resting-place for her weary,
sore-travailed spirit; and, like a tired pilgrim, she dropped all her
burdens beside this fresh stream, from whose waters she expected to
drink such cooling draughts. The quiet of the little meeting-house in
Charleston, the absence of ornament and ceremony, the silent worship by
the few members, the affectionate thee and thou, all soothed her
restless soul for a while, and a sweet calm fell upon her. But she
believed that God constantly spoke to her heart, directing her by the
still, small voice; and the fidelity with which she obeyed this
invisible guide was not only a real detriment to her spiritual
progress, but the cause of much distress to her.

When, as sometimes happened from various causes, she failed in
obedience, her mental suffering was intense, and in abject humility she
accepted as punishment any mortification or sorrow that came to her
afterwards. As a sequence to this hallucination, she also had visions
at various times, and saw and communed with spirits, and did not
hesitate to acknowledge their influence and to respect their
intimations. So marvellously real were her feelings on these points
that her immediate friends, though greatly deploring their effect upon
her, seldom ventured any remonstrance against them. Now, under the
influence of her new belief, the impression of a divine call to be made
upon her deepened, and soon took shape in the persuasion that it was to
be a call to the ministry. Her soul recoiled at the very thought of
work so solemn, and she prayed the Lord to spare her; but the more she
prayed, the stronger and clearer the intimations became, until she felt
that no loop-hole of escape was left her from obedience to her Master's
will. From the publicity the work involved, she intuitively shrank. Her
natural sensitiveness and all the prejudices of her life rebelled
against it, and she could not look forward to it without fear and
trembling. Every meeting now found her, she says, like a craven,
dreading to hear the summons which would oblige her to rise and open
her lips before the two or three gathered there. Vainly did she try to
"hide herself from the Lord." The evidence came distinctly to her one
morning that some words of admonition were required of her; but so
appalling did the act appear to her that she trembled, hesitated,
resisted, and was silent. Sorrow and remorse at once filled her