of the Gospel were very little, if at all, understood by me.  I was like the blind man, although I could hardly be said to have attained the state of seeing men as trees.  I obtained in this expedition a valuable knowledge of human nature from the variety I met with; this, I think, was useful to me, though some were very dangerous associates for so young a person, and the way in which I was protected among them is in my remembrance very striking, and leads me to acknowledge that at this most critical period of my life the tender mercy of my God was marvelously displayed towards me, and that His all-powerful—­though to me then almost unseen and unknown—­hand held me up and protected me.

Self-abnegation and austerity were now to take the place of pleasant frivolities and fashionable amusements.  Her conviction was that her mind required the ties and bonds of Quakerism to fit it for immortality.  Not that she, in any way, trusted in her own righteousness; for she gives it as her opinion that, while principles of one’s own making are useless in the elevation and refinement of character, true religion, on the contrary, does exalt and purify the character.  Still the struggle was not over.  Long and bitter as it had been, it became still more bitter; and the nightly recurrence of a dream at this period will serve to show how agitated was her mental and spiritual nature.  Just emancipated from sceptical principles, accustomed to independent research, and deciding to study the New Testament rather than good books, when on the border-land of indecision and gloomy doubt, yet not wholly convinced or comforted, her sleeping hours reflected the bitter, restless doubt of her waking thoughts.  A curious dream followed her almost nightly, and filled her with terror.  She imagined herself to be in danger of being washed away by the sea, and as the waves approached her, she experienced all the horror of being drowned.  But after she came to the deciding point, or, as she expressed it, “felt that she had really and truly got real faith,” she was lifted up in her dream above the waves.  Secure upon a rock, above their reach, she watched the water as it tossed and roared, but powerless to hurt her.  The dream no more recurred; the struggle was ended, and thankful calm became her portion.  She accepted this dream as a lesson that she should not be drowned in the ocean of this world, but should mount above its influence, and remain a faithful and steady servant of God.

Elizabeth’s mind turned towards the strict practices of the Friends, as being those most likely to be helpful to her newly-adopted life.  A visit paid to some members of the Society at Colebrook Dale, intensified and confirmed those feelings.  She says in her journal that it was a dreadful cross to say “thee,” and “thou,” instead of speaking like other people, and also to adopt the close cap and plain kerchief of the Quakeress; but, in her opinion, it had to be done, or she could not fully renounce the world and serve God.  Neither could she hope for thorough appreciation of these things in her beloved home-circle.  To be a “plain Quaker,” she must in many things be far in advance of father, sisters, and brothers; while in others she must tacitly condemn them.  But she was equal to the demand; she counted the cost, and accepted the difficulties.  At this time she was about nineteen years of age.