sentiment that marks her early writings, the books she delighted in, her
filial devotion, the absolute sincerity of her character, all forbid
any other conclusion. [3] The indications, too, are very plain that her
morbidly-sensitive, melancholy temperament had much to do with this
experience. Her account of it shows, also, that her mind was unhappily
affected by certain false notions of the Christian life and ordinances
then, and still, more or less prevalent--notions based upon a too narrow
and legal conception of the Gospel. Hence, her shrinking from the Lord's
table as a place of "torture," instead of regarding it in its true
character, as instituted on purpose to feed hungry souls, like her own,
with bread from heaven. But for all that, the experience was a blessed
reality and, as these pages will attest, wrought a lasting change in her
religious life. No doubt the Spirit of God was leading her through all
its dark and terrible mazes. It virtually ended a conflict which the
intensely proud elements of her nature rendered inevitable, if she was
to become a true heroine of faith--the conflict between her Master's
will and her own. Her Master conquered, and henceforth to her dying hour
His will was the sovereign law of her existence, and its sweetest joy
also.

The following extracts from letters to her cousin, George E. Shipman,
of New York, now widely known as the founder of a Foundling Home at
Chicago, will throw additional light upon her state of mind at this
period. Mr. Shipman was the friend to whom the account of her experience
already mentioned was addressed. He had just spent several weeks in
Portland, and to his Christian sympathy, kindness, and counsels while
there and during the two following years, she felt herself very deeply
indebted. [4]

PORTLAND, _August 22, 1840._