"I shall never, never, forget your kindness nor your sister's," she repeated again and again. "It has been better than a sermon to me." Only once again they met, and this was after Mr. Edmond's return from the West. He received a brief note from Mrs. Tracy informing him of her husband's decease. The next train of cars carried him to the nearest station, from which place he secured a conveyance to the cottage. She looked calmer than he expected, and told him she hoped God had listened to her cries for forgiveness. Mr. Tracy, in their new home, had been subject to fits of depression, and then he would suddenly become exultant, thinking himself in the fill tide of business, and making revelations to her of fraud and deceit such as she never even imagined. At the last he took to writing, and passed hours every day in penning puffs for his own speeches, which he read aloud to her, as if they were new to him. His disease advanced for the last few weeks with frightful rapidity. He often lay for hours without moving; and one morning she found him dead in his bed. Such was the sad end of the mere professor of religion, a dreadful contrast to the peaceful, triumphant death of the possessor of vital godliness. Only one paragraph more and I have done. Frank Edmond's investigations at the West, resulted in the formation of a new company to work the lead mine. A fresh vein of ore had been opened, and there was every reason to believe that independent fortunes would richly repay every one of the owners. In the course of five years, a railroad conveyed the ore from the opening of the mine to the market. A large and flourishing town had sprung up in the immediate vicinity, a spire and schoolhouse proved the community to be a Christian one, and Honorable Frank Edmond was sent to Congress to represent the wants of the new State.