“The suffering passed through in meeting, on account of the ministry, feeling as if I were condemned already whenever I arise; the severe reproofs administered by an elder to whom I did a little look for kindness; the cutting charge of preparing what I had to say out of meeting, and going there to preach, instead of to worship, like poor Mary Cox, was almost too much for me.  It cost me hours of anguish; but Jesus allayed the storm and gave me peace; for in looking at my poor services I can truly say it is not so, although my mind is often brought under exercise on account of this work, and many are the sleepless hours I pass in prayer for preservation in it, feeling it indeed an awful thing to be a channel of communication between God and His people.”

Referring to the charge again, some time later, she says:—­

“There are times when I greatly fear my best life will perish in this conflict.  I have felt lately as if I were ready to give up all, and to question all I have known and done.”

As contrasting with the very different opinions she held a few years later, the following lines from her diary, about the beginning of 1830, are interesting:—­

“There are seasons when my heart is so filled with apostolic love that I feel as if I could freely part with all I hold most dear, to be instrumental to the salvation of souls, especially those of the members of my own religious society; and the language often prevails, ’I am not sent but to the lost sheep of the house of Israel.’  Yet woman’s preaching mocks at all my reasoning.  I cannot see it to be right, and I am moving on in faith alone, feeling that ’Woe is me, if I preach not the Gospel.’  To see is no part of my business, but I marvel not at the unbelief of others; every natural feeling is against it.”

About this time, Angelina was admitted as a member of Friends’ Society, and began her preparation for the ministry.  But her active spirit needed stronger food to satisfy its cravings.  It was not enough for her to accept the few duties assigned to her; she must make others for herself.  Her restless energy, which was only her ambition to be practically useful, refused to let her sit with folded hands waiting for the Lord’s work.  She was too strong to be idle, too conscious of the value of the talents committed to her charge, to be willing to lay them away for safe keeping in a Quaker napkin, spotless as it might be.  She never loved the Society of Friends as Sarah did.  She chafed under its restrictions, questioned its authority, and rebelled against the constant admonition to “be still.”  On one page of her diary, dated a short time before her admission to Friends’ Society, she says:—­