Miss Ellis's letters frequently express her joy in a young man who had become a Unitarian minister through her efforts. He was a Methodist minister in Ohio, but had grown unable longer to accept the creed of his church. Unhappy, unsettled, and adrift, not knowing where to turn for help, by the merest "chance" he picked up on a railroad car a Cincinnati paper, and his eye fell on the Women's Auxiliary Conference advertisement. He wrote Miss Ellis a postal card, saying:-- "I have seen your notice in the 'Commercial,' offering Unitarian papers and tracts free to persons who may desire to read them. I must confess to more ignorance in regard to Unitarian doctrines than is seemly in a minister of the gospel, and will be thankful indeed if you will kindly favor me with such papers and tracts as may enlighten me ever so little." Later he wrote:-- "You have helped me not a little in my search for truth. Before I first wrote you for tracts, etc., I knew absolutely nothing of Unitarianism beyond the term, and the fact that Unitarians did not believe Christ to have been God." Miss Ellis corresponded with him from that time on, loaning many books, etc. It was never her wish or aim to unsettle persons of a fixed faith. She sought rather to reach and help those who, by reading and thinking, had become dissatisfied with the only forms of religious faith known to them, and were consequently drifting into scepticism. Mr. ----'s own letters best tell the story. After Miss Ellis's death, he wrote Feb. 3,1886: "I had long been wondering why I did not hear from her, but supposed that she found her time so engrossed with her chosen work that she must defer writing until some more convenient season. She had, it is true, hinted at her failing health, but I never dreamed it was so bad. My first intimation of the real state of affairs was the notice of her death. I need not say that I was startled, that I regret our common loss; these are but feeble expressions. "Through all my life here at Cambridge I have been anticipating the day when, returning West, I should meet her, and in some degree thank her for the help and comfort she brought me in life. This has become such a fixed idea with me, that it is hard to believe, as I write this, that it can never be in this world. It seems very strange that the one friend who did me such a supreme kindness in life I shall never meet.