In March, 1828, she wrote as follows to her sister, Mrs. Frost, in Philadelphia:—­

“I think I can say that it was owing in a great measure to my peculiar state of mind that I did not write to you for so long.  During that time it seemed as though the Lord was driving me from everything on which I had rested for happiness, in order to bring me to Christ alone.  My dear little church, in which I delighted once to dwell, seemed to have Ichabod written upon its walls, and I felt as though it was a cross for me to go into it.  At times I thought the Saviour meant to bring me out of it, and I could weep at the bare thought of being separated from people I loved so dearly.  Like Abraham, I had gone out from my kindred into a strange land, and I have often thought that by faith I was joined to that body of Christians, for I certainly knew nothing at all about them at that time.”

In the latter part of the letter she mentions the visit to her of an Episcopal minister, from near Beaufort.  He asked her if she could not do something to remove the lukewarmness from the Episcopal Church, and if a real evangelical minister was sent there would she not return to it.  “But,” she says, “I told him I could not conscientiously belong to any church which exalted itself above all others, and excluded ministers of other denominations from its pulpit.  The principle of liberty is what especially endears the Presbyterian church to me.  Our pulpit is open to all Christians, and, as I have often heard my dear pastor remark, our communion table is the Lord’s table, and all his children are cheerfully received at it.”

About the same time Sarah says in her diary:  “My dear Angelina observed to-day, ’I do not know what is the matter with me; some time ago I could talk to the poor people, but now it seems as if my lips were absolutely sealed.  I cannot get the words out.’  I mark with intense interest her progress in the divine life, believing she is raised up to declare the wonderful works of God to the children of men.”

In the latter part of March, 1828, she makes the following entry:  “On the eve of my departure from home, all before me lies in darkness save this one step, to go at this time in the Langdon Cheeves.  This seems peremptory, and at times precious promises have been annexed to obedience,—­’Go, and I will be with thee.’”

Angelina had been very happy during the year spent in the Presbyterian Church, all its requirements suiting her temperament exactly.  Her energy and activity found full exercise in various works of charity, in visiting the prison, where she delighted to exhort the prisoners, in reading, and especially in expounding the scriptures to the sick and aged; in zealously forwarding missionary work, and in warm interest in all the social exercises of the society.  She was petted by the pastor, and admired by the congregation.  It was very pleasant to her to feel that she not only