the minds
and memories of all. But Ella was not forgotten or neglected; they
often corresponded. Mary's letters told but too truly how much those
scenes were enjoyed by her. In answer to an invitation to come and
spend the summer in the retirement of Ella's home, she says, "Even in
this giddy place my heart is full to bursting; should I allow myself
more time for meditation it would surely break, and pour forth its
lava streams on the thirsty dust of human pride. In the dark,
cheerless hour of midnight, my burning, throbbing brain still keeps
its restless beating, scarce bestowing the poor refreshment of a
feverish dream to strengthen the earthly tenement. My health is
failing; there will soon be nothing left for me but the drifts of
thought and memory, which gather around a weary past and blighted
future."

It was in vain that Ella tried to place on parchment words of soothing
and consolation--to draw her thoughts from lingering around the ruined
wreck of her affections, and direct them to the "hope set before" her,
of obtaining through the merits of the Savior a home "where the wicked
cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest." Every letter she
received came burthened with its own weight of wo.

The summer passed--its roses bloomed and died. Another autumn came and
whistled by; but ere the winter's snow had melted, there were anxious
thoughts concerning Mary Warner. Never before had so long a time
elapsed without a letter from her to Ella. The first crocuses of
spring had just begun to smile when a letter came, written by a
stranger's hand! It told of Mary's being sick even unto death, and
begged of Ella, as she loved her friend, to come and remain with her
while yet life's taper burned. It was a fearful summons thus to break
the suspending spell. That evening saw Ella sitting in the cabin of
one of those large steamers which ply the western waters, anxiously
wending her way to a retired yet pleasant village near the Ohio, for
Mary's sadly declining health could no more mingle in the excitement
of the city, and she had retreated to this lonely place to lay down
her shattered frame in peace. The night of the second day brought Ella
to the place of destination. She entered the house where Mary was,
almost unconscious of the manner in which she introduced herself as
Mary Warner's friend. That was enough; an elderly lady clasped her
hand and bade her welcome. "Oh!" said she, "'tis a strange sight to be
in her sic