Her father's name was John Gurney; her mother, whose maiden name was Bell, was a lineal descendant of Robert Barclay, the Apologist of the Quakers. The Gurneys of Norwich trace their family back to the days of William Rufus, if not to the times of William the Conqueror. Elizabeth was one of twelve children, and the third daughter in this large family of Quakers. When she was four years old, her parents removed from the city to the beautiful estate of Earlham, where her childhood passed away in much worldliness and gaiety, for the Quakers of this period were extremely lax in carrying out their peculiarities. Earlham Hall is scarcely two miles from Norwich, and is a stately mansion surrounded by a lovely park, the river Wensum adding its charms to the scenery by its graceful windings in the vicinity. It was here, surrounded by luxury, beauty, and profusion, that the child played; and the old Hall was her bright, glad home. Her mother seems to have been very fond of Elizabeth, and in writing about her, remarks:--"My dear little Betsey never offends, and is, in every sense of the word, truly engaging." This may have been maternal partiality, for whilst a mere child, she was somewhat obstinate in disposition, and averse to study. It is even stated that she was thought a very dull child as to lessons, but this was probably because she had a great dislike to routine; and preferred a ride on horseback, a merry dance--for she was particularly fond of dancing--or a song with her sister Rachel, with whom she sang duets well. However, Elizabeth evidently made progress in accomplishments, and was taught drawing, as well as music and dancing. The young girl was naturally extremely nervous and sensitive; when only seven years old, she would quietly watch her mother when asleep, with a terrible dread that that beloved mother should not wake again. Or at times the wish would come into her heart, that the walls might close upon herself, and her dear parents, brothers, and sisters, and bury them in one grave together, rather than that she should ever have to suffer separation from them. When her mother died, Elizabeth was a fair-haired, sweet-looking child of twelve, with soft blue eyes, and a silvery attractive voice, which in later life told the beautiful story of the love and life of Jesus, with wonderful influence, to the poor degraded outcasts in prison. One poor woman, on hearing her read, said, "Hush! the angels have lent her their voices!" After the mother's death, the father and friends remained as gay as before, and an almost sceptical tendency crept over the family. With Elizabeth's nervous disposition, a dread of death was inevitable; she frequently alluded to it, calling it "This wonderful death," and in her diary she complains of dark restlessness of mind, and some disbelief in the truths of the Bible.