"I have been most useless since the middle of February; but, weak as I am, I have insisted on staying out of bed, waiting on myself, and keeping my room in order, even to sweeping it, and keeping up my missionary work slowly. I do dislike to be nursed and a care to people. Sometimes it seems impossible for me to get dressed for my breakfast, and it takes me about one hour and a quarter, I am so weak. Last Sunday I could not get to church; but I spent the day in resting,—spiritual rest. I had a service at home,—the responsive service, the three hymns, the Scripture lesson, and read one of J. F. Clarke's sermons, which I sent to another who needed consoling. There is a favorite hymn of mine, which I will write out for you. We often sing it for an opening hymn. [The hymn "Daily Consecration," by Caroline Mason, is here copied in full.] Excuse the mistakes, for I have written it from memory. Work on, dear friend, just where you are, and feel that there you are casting silent deeds of love which no one knows but the good Father above, but that they are none the less earnest work in his service.... Every other Saturday A. M. I go to the church to do up papers for the Workhouse. Was there this morning. Take heart, good friend, and feel that nothing you do is lost, and that sometime your labor will be appreciated. I must not write longer, for I want to attend church to-morrow. They miss me when I am not at my post."
Another letter of this summer reads:—
My dear Friend,—Your letter was duly received, and I wanted to answer it immediately, but have been too weak to write comforting letters.
Am so sorry to hear you are still sick, and wish I could help you. Am still more sorry to hear you are "dreading" the summer; but I do not wonder at it, for on a farm the labor required by the women in the house must be incessant.... I cannot take the burden off your shoulders; but perhaps a word of sympathy from another, and something from her experience, may enable you to face the difficulties.... My experience has been that when anticipating a hard time, if I only accept it, and make up my mind that it has to be my part, half the burden is taken off, if I determine to go through with it all, giving myself up to that work and thinking of nothing beyond in the mean time. Take all the rest I can get, instead of trying to do something else too. Rest will do you more good than company or books, when you are so used up with real hard work. Women all try to attend to too much outside of their households, for the sake of company and variety; do you not think so? Now, just take things as quietly as you can this summer, and feel that in your home duties you have more than you can do, and look forward to the time when summer will be over and you will have less care.
After her death, the lady wrote:—
"I sent my letter to her home by a messenger who reported that he understood at the door, as he handed it to the person who answered the bell, that Miss Ellis was dead. I hoped that he was mistaken, but your letter confirmed it. I knew she was very feeble. She wrote me some two weeks before Christmas, saying she was very weak; but I did not think for one moment that she was in danger, or I would have hurried to see her. I shall miss her greatly, and her dear letters to me, which I prized so highly; and you, who saw more of her than I could possibly, will feel her loss greatly. I believe there are few persons capable of entering so entirely into sympathy with others who needed it as she was, and of giving such consolation; at least, it has not been my good fortune to meet many such. I will be glad to receive the memorial of which you speak. I shall be very glad if your minister would write me on the subject of joining the church, as I was depending on Miss Ellis to guide me in the matter, which she was ready to do one year or more ago."
In 1884 Miss Ellis received the following letter from a young man, Mr. A. J. Beach, who had been one of her discouragements, because, after some correspondence, she had ceased to hear from him. Mr. Beach was usher in the State Penitentiary at Joliet, Ill.
"More than a year ago I wrote to thank you for papers which you had kindly sent me. In answer, you sent me a very kind letter, and named several books which I might read with profit. I procured a number of Rev. James Freeman Clarke's works, which I read carefully, and from which I gathered much of great value. I also subscribed to two of the papers you named, to which I have become so much attached that I could not possibly do without them.... Your letter led me to a course of reading and investigation that has proved a sun-burst to me. I have been in darkness. I am out of it now. I am connected with the State Prison (as usher), not the pleasantest position in the world; but I have tried to show many of the poor convicts the better way of life, and to cheer them by kind words and a showing of real interest in their unfortunate condition, and I believe I have succeeded in making lighter many a poor friendless fellow's load...."
The following extracts are from others of his letters:—
"I have read the sermons, and have handed them to a very intelligent prisoner, who has become greatly interested in Unitarian teachings, and requested him to pass the documents to others, after reading them. He will do so, and will see that they are kept moving. I am glad you are taking so much interest in our prison. There is much need of genuine kindness here, and it cannot be better shown than in a true and apparent desire to raise the unfortunates to a higher plane of thought and action. These men and women are in a sense left to themselves. They are not permitted to talk to each other. They pass long hours in their cells either reading or thinking. Is it not the very time to get them started thinking in the right direction? You say, We shall write to the Secretary of the Women's Auxiliary Conference in Boston, ... and interest them in the Joliet prison. This is good news. The Post Office Mission is truly a grand mission, and is doing more good than you may think of."
The next letter says:—