"I think I can say that it was owing in a great measure to my peculiar
state of mind that I did not write to you for so long. During that time
it seemed as though the Lord was driving me from everything on which I
had rested for happiness, in order to bring me to Christ alone. My dear
little church, in which I delighted once to dwell, seemed to have
Ichabod written upon its walls, and I felt as though it was a cross for
me to go into it. At times I thought the Saviour meant to bring me out
of it, and I could weep at the bare thought of being separated from
people I loved so dearly. Like Abraham, I had gone out from my kindred
into a strange land, and I have often thought that by faith I was
joined to that body of Christians, for I certainly knew nothing at all
about them at that time."

In the latter part of the letter she mentions the visit to her of an
Episcopal minister, from near Beaufort. He asked her if she could not
do something to remove the lukewarmness from the Episcopal Church, and
if a real evangelical minister was sent there would she not return to
it. "But," she says, "I told him I could not conscientiously belong to
any church which exalted itself above all others, and excluded
ministers of other denominations from its pulpit. The principle of
_liberty_ is what especially endears the Presbyterian church to me. Our
pulpit is open to all Christians, and, as I have often heard my dear
pastor remark, our communion table is the _Lord's table_, and all his
children are cheerfully received at it."

About the same time Sarah says in her diary: "My dear Angelina observed
to-day, 'I do not know what is the matter with me; some time ago I
could talk to the poor people, but now it seems as if my lips were
absolutely sealed. I cannot get the words out.' I mark with intense