"Miss Ellis was a very dear friend (although I never saw her), and
it was a great shock to learn of her decease. The first intimation
I had of her death was the article in the 'Register' headed 'A
Candle of the Lord.' Whatever literature you may send me shall be
given circulation after I have read it. I now supply some
half-dozen persons by mail with the tracts sent me. As I know the
personal peculiarities of all these parties, I can adapt the matter
to each. You will see, therefore, that I am a sort of branch
'mission.' In addition to this, I occasionally write a short
article to a local paper in Wayne County upon subjects of
interest."
He encloses one of these articles,--subject, "Future or Everlasting
Punishment: Which?"
"... Mrs. Smith wrote to me in regard to Miss Ellis's letters. I am
very sorry not to have any of them. During the last three years I
have moved so frequently, being sometimes in this State and
sometimes in W. Virginia, that they were lost, and I am unable to
find them. Some of them I carried for a long time in my pocket
until they became so worn as to be scarcely recognizable. The form
of them has vanished, but the kindness and sympathy they breathed
is with me still. The spirit of that sainted woman cannot wax old.
I humbly trust that I may be imbued with something of the calm and
trust and purity which her letters always suggested. There was,
too, an enthusiasm which was untiring, and withal a modesty that
never was absent from her utterances. There was ever the absence of
anything like dictation in her advice. It was the gentle monition
of a friend, never the pompous dictation of conscious superiority.
Rev. J. T. Sunderland, of Chicago, is to preach in our city March
21. I have never heard him, and am looking to his coming with
expectation."
A young woman who is working out a Homestead and Timber Claim in
Nebraska, and has been for several years supplied with much reading
matter by Miss Ellis, which she has circulated so zealously as to have
become one of the "branch missions," writes:--
"When I was about seventeen years old I joined the Baptist Church
in Newport, Ky. (where at the time I was residing, and teaching in
the public school in that city); and I was sincere in what I did,
only I had so many doubts about many things that they taught, and
hesitated from the beginning of the revival until the close before
I could decide. Then my decision was made on this, that there were
older persons belonging to the church that said they believed the
teachings and doctrine, and I thought when I grew older and had
more experience that I would understand, and I had a delicate fear
to converse with the older members about my doubts for fear of
their opinions of me; so I quietly stayed with them for a number of
years, when an old friend, a good woman, now gone from among us,
induced me to attend your church, Mr. Wendte then being the pastor.
The subject he was to speak about was 'the Christ we know.' I
remember my thoughts then were about these,--'Christ they know? I
don't believe they know any,' and thought I should like to hear
what he would say, any way. I well remember that sermon; not one
sentence he uttered jarred me in the least; and, strange to say,
they were my own thoughts on the subject; but I dared not, even if
I could, have expressed myself. I thought over that sermon the
whole week every spare moment I had, and even took some that did
not justly belong to me. I shall never forget that week. The next
Sunday his text was, 'the God we love.' For all I enjoyed the
previous sermon, I still thought, 'They love God? Impossible!' and
as my friends invited me to go over with them again, I accepted the
invitation. I never had God represented to me before as now,--more
like a kind father than an austere judge; yes, kind, compassionate,
and loving us all alike, condemning only our evil actions. This
suited me exactly; so another week was spent in thought. I would
think, 'How can I conscientiously be a Baptist and believe this
way?' Yet how I disliked leaving the church where many things were
endeared to me. It seemed as if I was in a sea of trouble and
doubt, not knowing whether to go on or halt and turn back. The next
Sunday the subject was, 'the Bible we revere.' I was more than
anxious to hear this one, for it seemed to me that on this I would
have to decide. I went, and decided. I broke off gradually from my
old associations, and attended the services in the Unitarian church
from that time until I came West. I never joined the church, but it
suited my views best of all churches, and to-day I cannot go in any
of the Orthodox churches and feel at home. Now as regards this
mission work that you wish me to engage in, I could devote half an
hour each day, and am willing to do all I can for the advancement
of the cause. My health became very poor, and I went West thinking
it would be beneficial. I must say I succeeded, for I am not
compelled to stay now for my health, but business keeps me here....
My homestead is three miles from the town, and I go out quite often
and stay over Sunday. My house is a very small dug-out. I raised
about ten bushels of potatoes, some beans, and a few squashes; have
done work I never thought of doing,--that is, planting vegetables,
made my own bedstead, put a floor in the house, and lined it with
sacking. Some of my lady friends assisted me when they came to see
me, and gave me ideas about my new kind of work. Now last, but not
least, in regard to Miss Ellis. I wrote to her directly after
coming West, and told her I felt isolated from church attendance,
but was pleased to find so many people with whom I could converse
on Liberal thought. Since that time she had kindly furnished me
with reading matter which I have again sent on its errand of peace
and joy. I looked over a bundle of letters and can only find this
postal card from her.... This card I send you is one she sent me in
reference to Mr. Copeland. I wrote her for his address, which she
gave me, and I requested him to come to our town and speak to the
people here. He kindly consented to come, and spoke on 'Into the
Light.' The majority of the people that heard him were well
pleased, and he promised me that whenever he passed our town on his
way to or from Denver he would stop over and speak. Would like to
have the card returned, as I want it for a remembrance."