At twelve years of age Elizabeth lost her mother, and in consequence suffered much from lack of wise womanly training.  The talents she possessed ripened and developed, however, until she became remarkable for originality of thought and action; while the spirit of benevolent enterprise which distinguished her, led her to seek out modes of usefulness not usually practiced by girls.  Her obstinacy and spirit of contradiction became in later years gradually merged or transformed into that decision of character, and lady-like firmness, which were so needful to her work, so that obstacles became only incentives to progress, and persecution furnished courage for renewed zeal.  Yet all this was tempered with tender, conscientious heart-searching into both motives and actions.

During her “teens” she is described as being tall and slender, peculiarly graceful in the saddle, and fond of dancing.  She possessed a pleasing countenance and manner, and grew up to enjoy the occasional parties which she attended with her sisters.  Still, from the records of her journal, we find that at this time neither the grave worship of Quakerism nor the gayeties of Norwich satisfied her eager spirit.  We find too, how early she kept this journal, and from it we obtain the truest and most interesting glimpses into her character and feelings.  Thus at seventeen years of age she wrote:—­

I am seventeen to-day.  Am I a happier or a better creature than I was this day twelvemonths?  I know I am happier—­I think I am better.  I hope I shall be happier this day year than I am now.  I hope to be quite an altered person; to have more knowledge; to have my mind in greater order, and my heart too, that wants to be put in order quite as much....  I have seen several things in myself and others I never before remarked, but I have not tried to improve myself—­I have given way to my passions, and let them have command over me, I have known my faults and not corrected them—­and now I am determined I will once more try with redoubled ardor to overcome my wicked inclinations.  I must not flirt; I must not be out of temper with the children; I must not contradict without a cause; I must not allow myself to be angry; I must not exaggerate, which I am inclined to do; I must not give way to luxury; I must not be idle in mind.  I must try to give way to every good feeling, and overcome every bad.  I have lately been too satirical, so as to hurt sometimes:  remember it is always a fault to hurt others.

I have a cross to-night.  I had very much set my mind on going to the Oratorio.  The Prince is to be there, and by all accounts it will be quite a grand sight, and there will be the finest music; but if my father does not wish me to go, much as I wish it, I will give it up with pleasure, if it be in my power, without a murmur....  I went to the Oratorio.  I enjoyed it, but I spoke sadly at random—­what a bad habit!

There is much difference between being