LIFES EARNEST PURPOSE.

There was no sharp dividing-line between worldliness and consecration ofrnlife in Elizabeth Gurney's case. The work was very graduallyrnaccomplished; once started into earnest living, she discerned, what wasrnall unseen before, a path to higher destinies. Standing on the ruins ofrnher former dead self, she strove to attain to higher things. Therninstrument in this change was a travelling Friend from America--WilliamrnSavery.rnrnThese travelling Friends are deputed, by the Quarterly Meetings to whichrnthey belong, to visit and minister among their own body. Theirrncommission is endorsed by the Yearly Meeting of the Ministers and Eldersrnof the Society, before the Friend can extend the journey beyond his ownrncountry. The objects of these visits are generally relating tornbenevolent and philanthropic works, or to the increase of religion amongrnthe members of the Society. Joseph John Gurney himself visited Americarnand the Continent upon similar missions, and in some of his journeysrnwas accompanied by his illustrious sister.rnrnWilliam Savery was expected to address the Meeting of Friends atrnNorwich, and most, if not all, of the Gurney family were present.rnElizabeth had been very remiss in her attendance at meeting; any andrnevery excuse, in addition to her, at times, really delicate health,rnserved to hinder attendance, until her uncle gently but firmly urged thernduty upon her. Thenceforward she went a little more frequently, butrnstill was far from being a pattern worshipper; and it will be concededrnthat few, save spiritual worshippers, could with profit join in therngrave silence, or enjoy the equally grave utterances of ordinaryrnmeeting. But William Savery was no ordinary man, and the young people atrnEarlham prepared to listen to him, in case he "felt moved" to speak,rnwith no ordinary attention. Giving an account of this visit, RichendarnGurney admitted that they liked having Yearly Meeting Friends come tornpreach, for it produced a little change; from the same vivacious pen wernhave an account of that memorable service. Memorable it was, in that itrnbecame the starting-point of a new career to Elizabeth Gurney.rnrnThe seven sisters of the Earlham household all sat together during thatrneventful morning, in a row, under the gallery. Elizabeth was restlessrnas a rule when at meeting, but something in the tone of William Savery'srnvoice arrested her attention, and before he had proceeded very far shernbegan to weep. She continued to be agitated until the close of thernmeeting, when, making her way to her father, at the men's side of thernhouse, she requested his permission to dine at her uncle's. WilliamrnSavery was a guest there that day, and, although somewhat surprised atrnhis daughter's desire, Mr. Gurney consented to the request. To thernsurprise of all her friends Elizabeth attended meeting again in thernafternoon, and on her return home in the carriage her pent-up feelingsrnfound vent. Describing this scene, Richenda Gurney says: "Betsey sat inrnthe middle and astonished us all by the great feelings she showed. Shernwept most of the way home. The next morning William Savery came tornbreakfast, and preached to our dear sister after breakfast, prophesyingrnof the high and important calling she would be led into. What she wentrnthrough in her own mind I cannot say, but the results were most powerfulrnand most evident. From that day her love of the world and of pleasurernseemed gone."rnrnHer own account of the impressions made upon her reads just a littlernquaintly, possibly because of the unfamiliar Quaker phraseology."To-day I have felt that _there is a God!_ I have been devotional, andrnmy mind has been led away from the follies that it is mostly wrapped uprnin. We had much serious conversation; in short, what he said, and what Irnfelt, was like a refreshing shower falling upon earth that had beenrndried for ages. It has not made me unhappy; I have felt ever sincern_humble_. I have longed for virtue: I hope to be truly virtuous; to letrnsophistry fly from my mind; not to be enthusiastic and foolish but onlyrnto be so far religious as will lead to virtue. There seems nothing sornlittle understood as religion."rnrnGood resolutions followed, and determined amendment of life, as far asrnshe conceived this amendment to be in accordance with the Bible. Whilernin this awakened state of mind, a journey to London was projected. Mr.rnGurney took her to the metropolis and left her in charge of arntrustworthy attendant, in order that she might make full trial of "thernworld" which she would have to renounce so fully if she embraced plainrnQuakerism. Among the good resolutions made in view of this journey tornLondon, we find that she determined not to be vain or silly, to bernindependent of the opinion of others, not to make dress a study, and tornread the Bible at all available opportunities. It was perhaps wise inrnher father to permit this reasoning, philosophical daughter of his tornsee the gayeties of London life before coming to a final decisionrnrespecting taking up the cross of plain Quakerism; but had her mind beenrnless finely balanced, her judgment less trained, and her principles lessrnformed, the result might have been disastrous.rnrnShe went, and mingled somewhat freely with the popular life of the greatrncity. She was taken to Drury Lane, the Covent Garden theatres, and tornother places of amusement, but she could not "like plays." She saw somerngood actors; witnessed "Hamlet," "Bluebeard," and other dramas, butrnconfesses that she "cannot like or enjoy them"; they seemed "sornartificial." Then she somewhat oddly says that when her hair was dressedrn"she felt like a monkey," and finally concluded that "London was not thernplace for heartful pleasure." With her natural, sound common sense, herrndiscernment, her intelligence and purity of mind, these amusementsrnseemed far below the level of those fitted to satisfy a rationalrnbeing--so far that she almost looked down on them with contempt. Therntruth was, that having tasted a little of the purer joy of religion, allrnother substitutes were stale and flat, and this although she scarcelyrnknew enough of the matter to be able correctly to analyze her ownrnfeelings.rnrnAmong the persons Elizabeth encountered in the metropolis, are foundrnmentioned Amelia Opie, Mrs. Siddons, Mrs. Inchbold, "Peter Pindar," andrnlast, but by no means least, the Prince of Wales. Not that she reallyrntalked with royalty, but she saw the Prince at the opera; and she tellsrnus that she admired him very much. Indeed, she did not mind owning thatrnshe loved grand company, and she certainly enjoyed clever company, forrnshe much relished and appreciated the society of both Mrs. Opie and Mrs.rnInchbald. This predilection for high circles and illustrious people wasrnafterwards to bear noble fruit, seeing that she preached often torncrowned heads, and princes. But just then she had little idea of thernwonderful future which awaited her. She was only trying the experimentrnas to whether the world, or Christ, were the better master. Deliberatelyrnshe examined and proved the truth, and with equal deliberation she camernto the decision--a decision most remarkable in a girl so young, and sorndangerously situated.rnrnHer own review of this period of her life, written thirty years later,rnsums up the matter more forcibly and calmly than any utterance of arnbiographer can do. She wrote:--rnrn Here ended this important and interesting visit to London, where Irn learned much, and had much to digest. I saw and entered manyrn scenes of gaiety, many of our first public places, attended ballsrn and other places of amusement. I saw many interesting characters inrn the world, some of considerable eminence in that day. I was alsorn cast among the great variety of persons of different descriptions. I had the high advantage of attending several most interestingrn meetings of William Savery, and having at times his company andrn that of a few other friends. It was like the casting die of myrn life, however. I believe it was in the ordering of Providence forrn me, and that the lessons then learnt are to this day valuable torn me. I consider one of the important results was the conviction ofrn those things being wrong, from seeing them and feeling theirrn effects. I wholly gave up, on my own ground, attending all publicrn places of amusement. I saw they tended to promote evil; therefore, even if I could attend them without being hurt myself, I felt inrn entering them I lent my aid to promote that which I was sure, fromrn what I saw, hurt others, led them from the paths of rectitude, andrn brought them into much sin. I felt the vanity and folly of what arern called the pleasures of this life, of which the tendency is not torn satisfy, but eventually to enervate and injure the mind. Those onlyrn are real pleasures which are of an innocent nature, and are used asrn recreations, subjected to the Cross of Christ. I was in my judgmentrn much confirmed in the infinite importance of religion as the onlyrn real stay, guide, help, comfort in this life, and the only means ofrn having a hope of partaking of a better. My understanding wasrn increasingly opened to receive its truths, although the gladrn tidings of the Gospel were very little, if at all, understood byrn me. I was like the blind man, although I could hardly be said torn have attained the state of seeing men as trees. I obtained in thisrn expedition a valuable knowledge of human nature from the variety Irn met with; this, I think, was useful to me, though some were veryrn dangerous associates for so young a person, and the way in which Irn was protected among them is in my remembrance very striking, andrn leads me to acknowledge that at this most critical period of myrn life the tender mercy of my God was marvelously displayed towardsrn me, and that His all-powerful--though to me then almost unseen andrn unknown--hand held me up and protected me.rnrnSelf-abnegation and austerity were now to take the place of pleasantrnfrivolities and fashionable amusements. Her conviction was that her mindrnrequired the ties and bonds of Quakerism to fit it for immortality. Notrnthat she, in any way, trusted in her own righteousness; for she gives itrnas her opinion that, while principles of one's own making are useless inrnthe elevation and refinement of character, true religion, on therncontrary, does exalt and purify the character. Still the struggle wasrnnot over. Long and bitter as it had been, it became still more bitter;rnand the nightly recurrence of a dream at this period will serve to showrnhow agitated was her mental and spiritual nature. Just emancipated fromrnsceptical principles, accustomed to independent research, and decidingrnto study the New Testament rather than good books, when on thernborder-land of indecision and gloomy doubt, yet not wholly convinced orrncomforted, her sleeping hours reflected the bitter, restless doubt ofrnher waking thoughts. A curious dream followed her almost nightly, andrnfilled her with terror. She imagined herself to be in danger of beingrnwashed away by the sea, and as the waves approached her, she experiencedrnall the horror of being drowned. But after she came to the decidingrnpoint, or, as she expressed it, "felt that she had really and truly gotrnreal faith," she was lifted up in her dream above the waves. Secure uponrna rock, above their reach, she watched the water as it tossed andrnroared, but powerless to hurt her. The dream no more recurred; thernstruggle was ended, and thankful calm became her portion. She acceptedrnthis dream as a lesson that she should not be drowned in the ocean ofrnthis world, but should mount above its influence, and remain a faithfulrnand steady servant of God.rnrnElizabeth's mind turned towards the strict practices of the Friends, asrnbeing those most likely to be helpful to her newly-adopted life. A visitrnpaid to some members of the Society at Colebrook Dale, intensified andrnconfirmed those feelings. She says in her journal that it was a dreadfulrncross to say "thee," and "thou," instead of speaking like other people,rnand also to adopt the close cap and plain kerchief of the Quakeress;rnbut, in her opinion, it had to be done, or she could not fully renouncernthe world and serve God. Neither could she hope for thoroughrnappreciation of these things in her beloved home-circle. To be a "plainrnQuaker," she must in many things be far in advance of father, sisters,rnand brothers; while in others she must tacitly condemn them. But she wasrnequal to the demand; she counted the cost, and accepted therndifficulties. At this time she was about nineteen years of age.rnrnAs a beginning, she left off many pleasures such as might havernreasonably been considered innocent. For instance, she abandoned herrn"scarlet riding-habit," she laid aside all personal ornament, andrnoccupied her leisure time in teaching poor children. She commenced arnsmall school for the benefit of the poor children of the city, and in arnshort time had as many as seventy scholars under her care. How shernmanaged to control and keep quiet so many unruly specimens of humanity,rnwas a standing problem to all who knew her; but it seems not unlikelyrnthat those qualities of organization and method which afterwardsrndistinguished her were being trained and developed. Added to these, mustrnbe taken into account the power which a strong will always has overrnweaker minds--an important factor in the matter. Still more must berntaken into account the strong, earnest longing of an enthusiastic youngrnsoul to benefit those who were living around her. Earnest souls makernhistory. History has great things to tell of men and women of faith; andrnElizabeth Gurney's life-work colored the history of that age. A briefrnsentence from her journal at this time explains the attitude of her mindrntowards the outcast, poor, and neglected: "I don't remember ever beingrnat any time with one who was not extremely disgusting, but I felt a sortrnof love for them, and I do hope I would sacrifice my life for the goodrnof mankind." Very evidently, William Savery's prophesy was coming tornpass in the determination of the young Quakeress to do good in herrngeneration.