chester was unfriendly to the
antislavery movement, Susan with her father and other liberal Hicksite
Quakers left it for the Unitarian church. Here for the first time they
listened to "hireling ministry" and to a formal church service with
music. This was a complete break with what they had always known as
worship, but the friendly Christian spirit expressed by both minister
and congregation made them soon feel at home. This new religious
fellowship put Susan in touch with the most advanced thought of the
day, broke down some of the rigid precepts drilled into her at Deborah
Moulson's seminary, and encouraged liberalism and tolerance. Although
there had been austerity in the outward forms of her Quaker training,
it had developed in her a very personal religion, a strong sense of
duty, and a high standard of ethics, which always remained with her.
It had fostered a love of mankind that reached out spontaneously to
help the needy, the unfortunate, and the oppressed, and this now
became the driving force of her life. It led her naturally to seek
ways and means to free the Negro from slavery and to turn to the
temperance movement to wipe out the evil of drunkenness.

These were the days when the reformed drunkard, John B. Gough, was
lecturing throughout the country with the zeal of an evangelist,
getting thousands to sign the total-abstinence pledge. Inspired by his
example, the Daughters of Temperance were active in Rochester. They
elected Susan their president, and not only did she plan suppers and
festivals to raise money for their work but she organized new
societies in neighboring towns. Her more ambitious plans for them were
somewhat delayed by home responsibilities which developed when her
father became an agent of the New York Life Insurance Company. This
took him away from home a great deal, and as both her brothers were
busy with work of their own and Mary was teaching, it fell to Susan to
take charge of the farm. She superintended the planting, the
harvesting, and the marketing, and enjoyed it, but she did not let it
crowd out her interest in the causes which now seemed so vital.

Horace Greeley's New York _Tribune_ came regularly to the farm, for
the Anthonys, like many others throughout the country, had come to
depend upon it for what they felt was a truthful report of the news.
In this day of few magazines, it met a real need, and Susan, poring
over its pages, not only kept in touch with current events, but f