Thus did Mary Ware write to a friend and true sympathizer, whose residence in Milton was one of the great inducements that had drawn her to that place. She had been there but a short time, and had not yet risen from the complete exhaustion of body and mind--the effect of years of solicitude, exertion, and suffering--for which she made too little allowance. She had been more than mortal, if she had not felt the effect, especially in the inevitable reaction when the great anxiety and demand ceased. She would not allow that or any thing to plead for her; and her danger was, as we have seen, that of forgetting the designed and necessary sympathy between body and mind. She did not always forget it. Her balanced mind led her to suspect the true cause of the change that had come over her; and she confessed that what she had called "a stroke of mental paralysis" was only physical, though affecting for a time all the powers. Still she was inclined, through its own unconscious influence, to give it a different name. "I doubt not you will smile at my quick sensibility to every thing which is likely to injure myself; and I am deeply convinced that I am growing more and more selfish." Selfish in moral sensibility! May we not be instructed by this, as by the other aspects of her eventful life? There is good sense in the pleasantry of her words to Emma not long before, in regard to power. "I sometimes wonder whether you and I are doing ourselves or our constituents justice,--whether we do not attempt too much, to do any thing as it had best be done,--whether we secure sufficient repose of mind to keep our judgments clear, our thoughts bright, and the supply of mental food what it ought to be to enable us to have the best influence of which we are capable." The first letter which we find dated at Milton discloses much both of the inward and the outward state. "_Milton, June 11, 1844._ "DEAR N----: