she had to listen to some sharp reflections on the Southern
institution, it seemed more than ever abhorrent to her, but it does not
appear that she gave utterance to her feelings on more than one or two
occasions. Even her diary contains only a slight and occasional
reference to them. She saw, she says, how useless it was to discuss the
subject, as even Angelina, the child of her own training, could see
nothing wrong in the mere fact of slave-holding, if the slaves were
kindly treated.

Her brother Thomas, to whom she might have opened her overburdened
heart, and received from his affection and good sense, comfort and
strength, she saw little of; besides, he was a slave-owner, and among
his numerous reform theories of education, politics, and religion, he
does not seem to have thought of touching slavery. He was a leading
member of the bar, very busy with his literary work, had a wife and
family, and resided out of the city.

Alone, therefore, Sarah brooded over her trials, and those of the
slaves, "until they became like a canker, incessantly gnawing." Upon
the latter she could only look as one in bonds herself, powerless to
prevent or ameliorate them. Her sole consolation was teaching the
objects of her compassion, within the lawful restrictions, whenever she
could find the opportunity. But she began to look upon the world as a
wilderness of desolation and suffering, and herself as the most
miserable of sinners, fast hastening to destruction. In this frame of
mind she was induced to listen to the doctrine of universal salvation,
and eagerly adopted it, hoping thereby to find relief from her doubts
and fears. Her mother discovered this with horror, and, trembling for
her daughter's safety, she aroused herself to argue so strongly against
what she termed the false and awful doctrine, that, though Sarah