erly condemned by the standard which thou hast set up
to judge me by--the opinion of my friends. This thou seemest to feel an
infallible criterion. If it is, I have not so learned Christ, for He
says, 'he that loveth father or mother more than me is not worthy of
me,' etc. I do most fully believe that had I done what I have done in a
church capacity, I should justly incur their censure, because they
disapprove of any intermeddling with the question, but what I did was
done in a private capacity, on my own responsibility. Now, my precious
sister, I feel willing to be condemned by all but thyself, _without_ a
hearing; but to thee I owe the sacred duty of vindication, though
hardly one ray of hope dawns on my mind that I shall be acquitted even
by _thee_. If I know mine own heart, I desire _not_ to be acquitted; if
I have erred, or if this trial of my faith is needful for me by Him who
knoweth with what food to feed His poor dependent ones, thou hast been
with me in heights and in depths, in joy and in sorrow, therefore to
thee I speak. Thou knowest what I have passed through on the subject of
slavery; thou knowest I am an exile from the home of my birth because
of slavery--therefore, to thee I speak.

"Previous to my writing that letter, I believe four weeks elapsed,
during which time, though I passed through close and constant exercise,
I did not read anything on the subject of abolition, except the pieces
in the Friends' paper and the _Pennsylvanian_ relative to the
insurrections and the bonfires in Charleston. I was afraid to read.
After this, I perused the Appeal. I confess I could not read it without
tears, so much did its spirit harmonize with my own feelings. This
introduced my mind into deep sympathy with Wm. Lloyd Garrison. I found
in that piece the spirit of my Master; my heart was drawn out in prayer
for him, and I felt as if I would like to write to him, but forebore
until this day four weeks ago, when it seemed to me I _must_ write to
him. I put it by and sat down to read, but I could not read. I then
thought that perhaps writing would relieve _my own mind_, without it
being required of me to send what I wrote. I wrote the letter and laid
it aside, desiring to be preserved from sending it if it was wrong to
do so. On Second Day night, on my bended knees, I implored Divine
direction, and next morning, after again praying over it, I felt easy
to send it, and, after committing it to the office, felt anxiety
remo