7th Mo. 9th.  I have been thinking much of the young women at the Union, and yesterday went to see them.  A sad spectacle; but they seemed willing and glad to be visited, and I hope to go once a week to read to them, and to teach a few of them to read.  Oh that my life were more useful than it is!

7th Mo. 18th.  Oh, why was I induced to allow thoughts and reasonings to supplant worship!  How they plead their own utility, and how like good is the thought about good! but then the dry, barren, unsatisfied unrest of soul that followed!  Strange, that thought employed to so little purpose at other times should pretend to be so edifying in meetings.  Reveries on probability, as being a mere relation between a cause and a spectator, or bystander; not between cause and effect.  Thought it important touching free will and foreknowledge.  God is certain of futurity—­we are uncertain.  Futurity is certain in relation to God, uncertain in relation to us—­probable or improbable in relation to us, neither in relation to God; but neither the certainty nor the probability exists in future non-existent fact, therefore I take it they do not influence the fact.  This, perhaps, is profitless; but I am glad to find that thought on this point always tends to confirm what I believe is the true scriptural doctrine in opposition to Calvinism.  This was a natural reaction on the minds of reformers from the Romish doctrine of justification by works.  They no sooner found that man cannot make his own salvation, than they fancied he could not reject it.  They learned that it was freely given to some, and fancied that it could not have been freely offered to all.

7th Mo. 20th.  Mere carnal conscientiousness is a poor substitute for love of God.  The constant inquiry, “What must I do to keep an easy conscience?” is no proof of high Christian attainment; rather says the Christian, “What can I render for all His benefits?”

7th Mo. 30th.  A visit to J. Harvey’s corpse. [A poor man whom she had frequently visited.] I have been much concerned about him in days past, and now can a little rejoice in his exceeding joy.  An emaciated, sallow countenance, but speaking perfect rest.  He spoke scarcely at all for some days.  I saw him three days before his death, and could but commend him to one of the “many mansions;” but he could scarcely answer.

A few passages about this period, record Eliza’s desire for a friendship with some sympathizing mind out of her own family,—­some one whose views, whilst tending to the same point as her own, would yet have the freshness of an altogether different experience.  Not that she undervalued home affections, for that would have been quite contrary to her nature, but, after alluding to them warmly, she says, “At