ss half on, and these words passed through my mind: Can it be of
any consequence in the sight of God whether I wear a black dress or
not? The evidence was clear that it was not, but that self-will was the
cause of my continuing to do it. For this I suffered much, but was at
length strengthened to cast away this idol."

Remembering the fashionable life she had once led, and her natural
taste for the beautiful in all things, it must have been something of a
sacrifice, even though sustained by her religious exaltation, to lay
aside everything pretty and becoming, and, denying herself even so much
as a flower from nature's own fields, to array herself in the scant and
sober dress of drab, the untrimmed kerchief, and the poke bonnet.

Writing from Greenhill in October, she says:

"On last Fifth Day I changed my dress for the more plain one of the
Quakers, not because I think making my clothes in their peculiar manner
makes me any better, but because I believe it was laid upon me, seeing
that my natural will revolted from the idea of assuming this garb. I
trust I have made this change in a right spirit, and with a single eye
to my dear Redeemer. It was accompanied by a feeling of much peace."

Late in the autumn she sailed for Charleston, and was received by the
home circle with affection, though her plain dress gave occasion for
some slighting remarks. These, however, no longer affected her as they
once had done, and she bore them in silence. Surrounded by her family,
all of whom she warmly loved, in spite of their want of sympathy with
her, rooming with her "precious child," with full opportunity to
counsel and direct her, and intent upon carrying out reform in the
household, she was for a time almost contented. She took up her old
routine, her charities, and her schools, and attended meeting
regularly. But a very few weeks sufficed to make her realize her utter
inability to harmonize the discordant elements in her home, or to make
more than a transient impression upon her mother. Day by day she became
more discouraged; everything seemed to conspire to thwart her efforts
for good, which were misconstrued and misunderstood. Surrounded, too,
and besieged by all the familiar influences of her old life, it became
harder to sustain her peculiar views and habits, and spiritual
luke-warmness gained rapidly upon her. With deep humility she
acknowledged the mistake she had made in going back to Charleston,
which place was evident