"Here was a most essential requisite—faith in the Father, who alone is the power; faith and trust in the invisible All. Why do we pray so much with no answer to even our most devout aspirations? Because, like the disciples, we have too little faith.

"The heart-weary mother has prayed for her son, and he still goes the 'broad way that leadeth to destruction,' as she thinks; but for her heart-weariness, which is but lack of faith, he might have been turned into 'paths of righteousness.' With her mind continually burdened with fear, dire forebodings and anxious doubts, she has asked, begged, beseeched the mighty Ruler of destinies to soften the heart of her wayward boy. Thankfulness that God has given to her child the common inheritance to all possible blessings, a pure spiritual nature, the reflection of the All-Good, has never entered her thought to express. Her mind is divided between a conception of good and a conception of its opposite—evil. The result is years of hopeless praying, years of hopeless waiting. 'A house divided against itself can not stand.'

"'Pray, believing that ye have received.' Thus, 'I thank Thee, Father, for the perfect reflection of Thyself in my son. He is whole because he lives in and of Thy wholeness. I thank Thee that Thou hast already done more than I could ask. 'It is finished.' Into Thy hands I commend my all.'

"In this is the simple recognition of the All-Father, His love and His omnipotence. And after this, what? Trust—unwavering, childlike trust. So the burden is truly 'cast upon the Lord,' evil is overcome, swallowed up in the Good.

"With such mighty faith, what a cleansing there would be! what a sincere, glad rejoicing that the true relation between God and man were proven, for faith is the bond between the invisible and the visible, a 'basis of things hoped for, a conviction of things unseen.'

"With what devoutness, then, would we name the needs and aspirations? With what certainty would we assert that we have 'already received?' Not far off in the intangible somewhere, but here, there, everywhere may we find the Good, and 'he that dwelleth in the secret place of the Most High shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty.'

"To dwell in the secret place, in the pure and righteous thought, is to be always under the protection of the Most High. To be able to say, 'He is my refuge and my fortress,' is the grand privilege given to the heir of the King, the heir that has come to the full knowledge of his inheritance and thankfully uses it.

"'The effectual, fervent prayer of a righteous man availeth much,' wrote the wise and righteous James. There is an infinite promise of the fulfillment of righteousness in these words. They contain the key to all accomplishment or all failure. The righteous man is one who 'walketh righteously, speaketh uprightly, stoppeth his ears from hearing of blood, shutteth his eyes from seeing evil' (prayer and fasting). The righteous man decrees magnificently and trusts infinitely. He does not approach God like a cringing servant, licking the dust at his master's feet, but like a Prince who enters his Father's presence with the simple statement of his wants, and knowing his Father's will takes the glorious gift with thanksgiving and praise.

"Is it health he would have manifested for himself or his neighbor? He confidently acknowledges the health, even though he can not see it, the health with which all humanity is endowed, if it would claim its endowment. Is it peace, power, strength he desires, he again goes to the royal treasury. With the right word he climbs the stair of heaven; with the right faith he enters his Father's house, where all things abound.

"The righteous man is of one mind, the divine Mind that works through him. Were all the praying world of one mind, think you a Lincoln would have been martyred, a Garfield sacrificed, or tender little children lost to our sight?

"God is the same forever. There is no inharmony to come from Harmony. Be of one mind; let the divine Mind work through you; acknowledge only the divine creation, and then all beliefs in the opposite of God will be destroyed. The immaculate Christ (Truth) destroys the works of the evil (error) to-day, even as in the far away centuries of the past, 'if so be you let the Mind that was in Christ Jesus be in you.'

"The practical naming of daily prayer is denial and affirmation, denying evil or undesirable conditions, and acknowledging the Good or absolute.

"'Being is the vast affirmative excluding negation, self-balanced and swallowing up all relations, parts and times within itself. Nature, truth, virtue, are the influx from thence,' said Emerson, noting the absoluteness of that which is. To become one with this affirmative Allness, is to manifest the affirmative condition of Being.

"Paul says in Titus: 'The grace of God hath appeared to all men, teaching us that denying ungodliness and worldly desires, we should live soberly, righteously and godly in this present world;' and in the next chapter, referring to the same subject: 'This is a faithful saying, and these things I will that thou affirm constantly, that they which hath believed in God might be careful to maintain good works.'

"There is no ceasing of this most necessary process. It is only by denying and affirming constantly that we fast and pray, thus fitting ourselves for the cleansing ministry. It is to 'be diligent in season and out of season,' if we would gain the true reflection from Omnipotence.

What the sun is to the flower, Thou to us art every hour; Like the dew on lily's breast Fall all blessings from the Best. Not alone in day would we Turn our faces, Lord, to Thee, But through lowering clouds of night Would reflect Thy radiant light; Thanking Thee for all Thy care, May our lives be filled with prayer.

"What an outpouring there was in the silence after this. Such a flood of reverence and trustfulness filled my heart, and instantly it flashed upon me that God requires no outward forms or ceremonies of His children, except they be the spontaneous and involuntary expression of an overflowing heart.

"Kneeling in prayer was first prompted by reverence and not the servile form into which it has too much degenerated. A form is only a sign at best. If there is nothing to prompt the sign, what a mockery it is! Truly, 'the letter killeth but the spirit giveth life.'

"Exactly how these thoughts came to me I can not tell, but after the silence I knew by a great and sudden wave of understanding, things that I had never thought of before, and to attempt to tell them would be like trying to catch the sunshine. The hint I have tried to give seems very far from the reality of my experience—but what are words compared to thoughts, anyway!... My heart is too full. I know now what 'inexpressible' means.

"Good bye, with love to all.

"MARION.

"P. S. I had just finished my letter when Mrs. Dawn and Miss Singleton came in. They too, had something wonderful in the silence. It seems too sacred to tell, but to you three who are so earnestly seeking the way of Truth, I can say what might seem sacrilege to the thoughtless world. Miss Singleton had realized in those few moments the inexpressible meaning of the Lord's prayer. 'Why,' she said, 'why, if we could realize what it means, there would be no more sickness, sin or death. It seemed to me the very heavens opened, and I looked upon a broad white shining light like a path, only it was broadened and broadened as I looked, till it became wide enough to cover the whole earth. This is to be wherever the kingdom has come upon earth. Wherever the thoughts are heavenly and pure there the Father is, there heaven, wholeness, health are, and I could realize that the light is here, but ignorance keeps it veiled, so that verily the 'light shineth in darkness but the darkness comprehendeth it not.' Talk of sickness, trouble, sorrow, why, they are nothing! The light is here, the kingdom of heaven has come, and been here all the time. Jesus knew it, but he had to use language they could understand. He knew if they prayed faithfully in that spirit, bye and bye the spiritual meanings would flash upon them. Oh, how much, how much it means! I can never lose this, for it means unutterable things, and I know there is no reality in sickness for I am well!'

"Miss Singleton is, or has been troubled for years with heart disease and a slight curvature of the spine.

"It was not very light in the room, and I had not noticed her figure particularly, but as she spoke, her face fairly shone with a heavenly light (I can think of nothing else to describe it), and she was straight as any one! She declared over and over that she was well, but more than all else she appreciated the spiritual uplifting and knowledge that had come.

"Mrs. Dawn had no special revelation to-day, but she seems to be unfolding most beautifully. We talked a long time, and then sat in the silence. They have just gone. How I wish I could see you, but it is late and I must again close. Give my love to Grace and Kate. I am so glad Kate is getting into the light. I felt she would be all right after she begun. Of course, Kate, you will read this, but you will not care, I am sure.

"M. H."



CHAPTER XXIV.

"Not till the soul acts with all its strength, strains its every faculty, does prayer begin."—Frances Power Cobbe.

"I have always thought a great deal on the subject of prayer," said Mr. Hayden, drawing his chair up closer and bending over to look at his listeners, Grace and Kate, who had called to get the letter which had just been read, "and it appears to me," he continued, "that subject has been misunderstood."

"Well?" interrogated Grace.

"Well, we have always been taught to pray to a God who could be informed of our wants and needs, and be induced to change His mind about the method of dealing with them, or be softened in His judgments concerning His children. Now if God is all-wise and all-powerful, why need we so carefully instruct Him? If He is all Love why need we ask Him with piteous tears to bless our sick and afflicted? If He is everywhere present, and no respecter of persons, why need we ask Him to do for one more than for another? As God is omniscient, is He not all the knowledge there is?"

"The great mistake has been to regard Deity as Person, instead of Principle," said Grace, as he paused a moment.

"As God is changeless and eternal, the essence of Love and Life," he went on, not heeding the interruption, "how can it be otherwise than that we have an influx of this divine Life into ourselves as we acknowledge its eternal and omnipresent existence, realizing the truth of what we say?"

"There the trouble has been," said Kate, taking up his thought, "that we have not realized the divine Presence which we call Truth, because we have not acknowledged it."

"That is exactly the reason, and it needs a constant acknowledgment of the Good to keep us from admitting false beliefs that beset us because of an acknowledgment of the opposite of the Good."

"What then is your idea of the true method of prayer?" asked Kate, much interested.

"More of thanksgiving, as Mrs. Pearl teaches. I like her comparison to the servant and prince. We can not dwell too much on the thought that God is always giving us blessings. They are here, have been from the beginning of all knowledge, and our part is to take them. I often think of that comparison between the earthly and the heavenly Father, given by Jesus, when he said: 'If ye then, being evil, know how to give good gifts unto your children, how much more shall your Father which is in heaven, give good things to them that ask Him?' Here is Mabel, for instance. Passionately fond of flowers as she is, suppose some day I should bring her a rare bouquet from the florist's, and with a smile hold them out to her, saying: 'Here Mabel, are some roses for you!' How would I feel if she came with the most pathetic expression of longing and misery in her face, and dropping down on her knees, should beg me to give her one flower? But instead, like a true child that knows the father love, she would fly to take the beautiful gift and say, 'Oh, thank you, papa!' as she gives me a rapturous kiss, then runs for a vase to hold her treasures."

"Indeed, that is like the true child we all should become, and give thanks for the beautiful gifts of God," said Kate, softly, as if to herself.

"What do you think of the Lord's prayer as it was revealed to the lady?" asked Grace, to whom this part of the letter seemed a little hard to understand.

"I think her revelation far exceeds mine, but I have enough to know that it is as she says: 'We must finally get the inner meaning, but I would uncover the spiritual ideas by clothing them in more spiritual language.'

"It would be a great help if you would interpret it for us," said Kate, moving her chair closer in her eagerness to hear.

"Wait a moment," said Mr. Hayden, as he went for the Bible. "I don't know very well how to word it, but the thought came to me this morning, and became much plainer after I had read the letter."

He read the Lord's Prayer, then gave his conception of the spiritual meaning.

"All-pervading Father-Mother Spirit, which art in all harmony, revered and holy is Thy name. Thy peace and love and righteousness is conceived and realized amid earthly environments as it is in the highest state of harmony.

"Give to us each day the hidden manna, the living word that sustains us, and give us the truth for error as we in our divine likeness to Thee, give truth for error to those who err against us.

"Leave or let us not in temptation, but preserve us from all thoughts that would dishonor Thee, for Thine is the kingdom and power and glory forever."

"That is wonderful. Oh, how beautiful it all is," exclaimed Kate with much feeling.

"Isn't it?" added Grace, "and quite in accord with the passage quoted by Mrs. Hayden,'what things soever ye desire, that—'"

"Same principle, recognizing the omnipresence of all things good, and acknowledging the gift as already given," interrupted Mr. Hayden, shutting his book and rising to put it away.

"How would you construe the passage where it says, 'with prayer and supplication let your requests be made known to God?'" asked Kate.

"Oh, but you have not quoted it all: 'With prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving let your requests be made known,'" replied Mr. Hayden, smiling. "It means, continue to ask, and expect to receive and give thanks, not only by word, but by proper use of what you already have. 'If ye continue in my word,' was the condition, so it must be that we continue to ask and give thanks, even if our petition is not visibly answered at once."

Mr. Hayden had some advantage in his study over the girls, for these things had been more or less considered by himself and Mrs. Hayden ever since her recovery, and it was no wonder he could explain so readily.

"After all, how would you apply this way of praying to giving treatments?" asked Grace. "I am anxious for the practical application."

"Why, it is all practical, as far as the individual is concerned, but the application to others we have yet to learn, though I imagine it is the same. It is simply being negative to false conditions, thus putting them off, and affirmative to true conditions, absorbing them as the flower does the light and heat."

"Well, it is a beautiful idea of prayer at any rate," remarked Grace.

They soon went home, still discussing and deeply pondering the subject.

* * * * *

"Grace, what do you suppose I did to-day?" cried Kate, breathlessly, as she rushed in the next evening.

"Can't imagine, unless you cured little Tim, the newsboy," laughed Grace, making her guess extravagant enough.

"No, but really, I treated Fannie for a dreadful headache. Of course I said nothing to her, but she was stumbling so over her music, I asked her what was the matter, and when she told me I treated her. In just a few moments she brightened up and said she felt better, and before we got through it was all gone. Wasn't that delightful?"

"Very, and I am so glad. How did you do it?"

"Well, I can hardly tell, but the talk we had yesterday with Mr. Hayden gave me a clearer idea than I had before, and I just denied the headache and acknowledged the truth that she was spiritually well; then waited a few moments and gave thanks that it was so."

"How glad we ought to be for the privilege of reading Mrs. Hayden's letters," said Grace, thoughtfully, as she smoothed her hair and washed her hands.

"Yes, and what a goose I was about it," Kate replied. "I would scarcely take the chance when it was offered, and if it had been any one but Mrs. Hayden, I do believe I should have refused point blank."

"We know so little what is right when we judge in the old way," said Grace. "Now, if I actually hadn't seen that woman cured, and known positively how she was before, nothing would have induced me to spend my time on this, although, from the first, I rather liked the theory."

"Where is my gingham apron?" called Kate, looking in the dark closet where she had hung it.

"Kate, I'm thoroughly reformed, as you will know when I tell you I am perfectly willing to perform the culinary duties to-night, and I will be the cook while you discourse some music for my edification," laughed Grace, as she emerged from the studio with her sleeves rolled back, and the lost apron pinned around her.

"What!" cried Kate, holding up both hands with a mock-tragic air. "Do you really mean it?"

"Of course, and I will show you what a talent I have for poaching eggs and making toast."

The girls were in the habit of dividing their work according to their personal tastes. Kate liked to prepare dainty meals and wash dishes, while Grace preferred to sweep and dust, and arrange things to suit her artistic eye. Each disliked the other's part of the work, so they were well content to have it so divided.

"Go on, now," ordered Grace, "and play for me. I want some music; but, first of all, tell me where the eggs are, and how long should they boil?"

"The eggs are in the tin pail on the third shelf in the closet. They should boil till they are a pretty blue white."

"Very well, now I can dispense with your company."

Kate laughed merrily, and sitting down to the piano, played till Grace called her out to dine.

"It seems rather nice to come home and play lady," she remarked, as she went out where Grace was.

"Well, really, Kate, I was thinking this afternoon that there is not so much difference in the kinds of work as there is in the thoughts you have when you work, and I resolved, that to refrain from certain duties because one does not like them is selfish, and makes a person one-sided. Then I could see no reason why I should dislike to cook, and concluded to try it."

"I believe you are right about the one-sidedness," said Kate, soberly.

"I do want to grow into a rounded character, and am just realizing the necessity of doing things that lie nearest us, whether it is washing dishes, painting or scrubbing. If I get so I can think right about things I'm sure I shall like them."

"That is true. I have already noticed a vast difference in my patience in giving lessons. You know some days I would be so nervous and get so exasperated with Fannie Thornton and Jenny Miles, I didn't know what to do with myself, but the last few days I have not minded them at all, in fact I got along better with Fannie than ever before, and it was just because I kept from thinking she was contrary and stupid."

"Well, that is a practical application of your lesson. I think we ought to apply it to everything we do," replied Grace.

"One of the chief beauties of this Christianity is that it goes into every thought and action," said Kate, thoughtfully, adjusting her hair.

"Oh!" she added a moment later, "I forgot to give you the letter that came to-day." She pulled it out of her pocket all crumpled and gave it to Grace, who glanced at her name on the envelope and then grew white about the mouth as she hastily put it into her pocket, remarking in an ordinary tone, "It will keep a little longer."

Little was said by either for some time. Grace was preoccupied and Kate furtively watched her face, for this was an unaccountable procedure, although occasionally Grace had been affected the same way before.

She insisted on washing the dishes, and was glad indeed that she had it to do, while Kate poured her thoughts into music, feeling that she could best show sympathy for her friend by this, to her, most expressive way.

As for Grace, she waited till she had quite finished her work and then sat down to read the letter. She well knew it was from Leon Carrington, a suitor, whom she had rejected on the plea that she wished to be wedded solely to her art. Pride had forbidden her being frank enough to tell him the real reason, caused by an impeachment made against his character, by one whom she implicitly trusted as a friend. Her bitter resolve was the result, and while it was true she loved and desired to spend her life in pursuing her art, she had compelled herself to think she loved it best, and so told him it was first choice.

Hers was a proud, deep nature, and rather than admit that she had loved or could love one whom she considered unworthy, she cut the matter short by a decided rejection. It had cost her a mighty effort to come to this decision, and when she came out of the trial, she had lost her faith in all men.

On all other points but this, Grace was sound and sweet in her general disposition, but any talk on marriage she would never tolerate even with Kate.

This was the third letter he had written in the two years since he went away, and as in the preceding, he fervently begged her to reconsider.



CHAPTER XXV.

"Life hath its Tabor heights, Its lofty mounts of heavenly recognition, Whose unveiled glories flash to earth munition Of love, and truth, and clearer intuition: Hail! mount of all delights!"

—I. C. Gilbert.

"MARLOW, September ——.

"Good morning, dear ones all! I must tell you a little of yesterday before I go to the lesson to-day. We were not in class, and I staid in my room all day trying to solve the many questions that present themselves to us all, and to claim a little more understanding. Many points became very much clearer after my long meditation in the silence. In the evening I ran down to see Mrs. Dawn, who is several blocks away. We were so interested, so completely absorbed in telling our thoughts and experiences, that it was after eleven o'clock when I arose to go, and then she accompanied me home, only intending to come part way, but as we passed a little low house about half way home, the door suddenly opened and a little girl of ten or twelve years ran out sobbing, 'The baby is dying! the baby is dying!'

"She was going up an outside stairway to inform a neighbor. We rushed into the house and found the frantic mother sobbing and wailing over her baby apparently in the last agonies of death.

"'What is it? Can't we do something for you?' we asked, not knowing what else to say.

"'Oh, my baby, my precious baby is dying! Don't you see? she is almost gone.'

"Indeed, for an instant it seemed the little life had gone out, when, like a flash of lightning, the words came to my inner self, 'There is no death.' 'He that believeth on me shall not see death;' 'I am the way the truth and the life.' 'Treat,' I whispered to Mrs. Dawn, and soon the awful lie was denied by us in the peaceful silence of our own souls; for all consciousness of appearances had vanished as we denied death and its power, till we could command the waves of mortal thought to subside and say, 'Peace, be still.'

"It was the Master, the Christ within, who spoke for us, and we were filled with the mighty peace and calmness of Truth that worked through us and was immediately made manifest. The little face relaxed, the eyes lost their glassy stare, the color returned to the pale lips.

"The mother ceased her mourning and gazed at the precious child in awesome silence. The neighbor and the little girl who had come in, stood by in hushed amazement. For a while all felt the presence of the great invisible Power that had wrought so wondrous a work in their midst, although no one knew but ourselves what had been done. Presently the mother leaned back in her chair with a sigh of relief, awaiting the doctor, for whom her husband had gone before we entered the house. We waited till he came, and then quietly slipped out.

"Mrs. Dawn came clear home with me, and we found our thoughts and feelings had been almost identical in this remarkable experience, showing the oneness of truth. It is something we shall never forget, for it was indeed from the very depths of our being we were stirred and thrilled with the mighty Principle.

"This morning I went to see the baby, and found it quite bright and happy, but still breathing a little heavily. The M. D. had left medicine, and of course, they were giving it 'according to directions.' I told the mother something of the Healing, and she readily acknowledged that something mysterious had saved her child's life, because it certainly was dying as much as the child she had lost years ago.

"'After you left last night, the neighbor who was here said like as not you were Christian healers or whatever that is, but she did not believe a word in it, and that it was all nonsense, but I told her I didn't care. I thought you saved my baby, and the doctor said it had grown much better since he came. 'Well,' says I, 'ef you had seen her condition when the ladies came in, you would say she is better.'

"'Oh, we won't argue about what made her better, whether medicine or something else; all we want now is to have the child cured,' said the doctor, very kind-like, and I really thought a great deal better of him than I had before, for most M. D.'s think they know everything,' she said.

"I was so glad to find she acknowledged even this much, so I talked a little longer, and explained the necessity of perfect trust in God, and the consequences of distrust in Him. She seemed very responsive and ready to believe, but then, who would not believe after such a demonstration? I have felt awed and hushed all the morning, remembering the mighty something surging through me. It seems hard to believe that at last my desire to have some grand sign shown me is already fulfilled.

"Mrs. Pearl talked beautifully this afternoon on understanding. I wish you could hear the lectures as she gives them, with all her grace and beauty and impressiveness. Here is the essence of the lesson:

"As we evolve from material to spiritual understanding, we put ourselves more and more into the divine current of Life, Health, Goodness, which is God. The higher our ideal, the higher our attainment. Believing in God as supreme Love, we find it impossible to conceive of wrath, jealousy, revenge, as emanating from or existing in Him, Her or It. As we are filled with love, it becomes universal. Everybody is judged by its tender charity, everything is tinged with its warm radiance.

"As Paul so beautifully wrote: 'Love suffereth long and is kind, love envieth not, vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up, doth not behave itself unseemly, seeketh not its own, is not provoked, taketh not account of evil, rejoiceth not in unrighteousness, but rejoiceth in the truth.... Love never faileth.' If this be a standard by which to judge the love of men, how much more appropriately might it judge God, who is love itself.

"In proportion as we are freed from the ignorance and narrowness of primitive, ancient opinions concerning God, we shall rise to broader and tenderer and truer conceptions of Him. To the warm, sympathetic heart, that knows the deepest needs of humanity, the 'mercy that endureth forever' is an established fact of the universal Love. To understand this Love is to be at one with it, to do the works and think the thoughts of Love. It is essential, then, first to understand the law of effort, then faith, then love, then spiritual understanding, which is the goal toward which we all hasten—understanding of all spiritual things, understanding of God, who is all spirit. As we make the effort we receive faith, as we use faith we grow in the power and capacity of love, and love brings us the fullness of all things, even understanding of infinite wisdom. Every glimpse of truth we have ever had, every glorious breath of freedom, is but a hint of what will be when we have 'awakened to righteousness.'

"We gain our knowledge by and through the law of right speaking and consequently right acting. In the Bible, the New Testament especially, great stress is laid upon the power of words. Solomon wrote, 'How forcible are right words.' 'Life and death are in the power of the tongue,' and from St. Paul we hear, 'Hold fast the form of sound words;' and James' admonition, 'Be ye doers of the word and not hearers only,' show that both considered it necessary to speak the word if they would manifest its power.

"But there is another and a holier office given to the word and that is the office of atonement. The original meaning of atone was to 'make at-one, to agree, to be in accordance, to accord.' To be at-one with a person is to be in such perfect sympathy that the thoughts of both are the thoughts and feelings of one.

"Another illustration would be to say of a chip thrown into the river, it is at-one with the current. In this sense we should aim to be so at-one with the divine Principle that we may say with Jesus, 'I am one with the Father,' for did he not say: 'They are not of this world even as I am not of this world,' and 'That they may be one even we are one.'

"To speak absolute Truth is to come into the true at-one-ment, to be at one with the divine Mind, to realize that Christ the Truth is the atoning power. The Christ is the impersonal Word of Truth which we are to speak, for 'unto us hath been committed the word of reconciliation' or atonement.

"When we think true thoughts and catch true ideas, when we understand true meanings and love true knowledge, we are sustained by the living word which sustains all who speak and live it, because we are truly at one with the divine Word.

"Knowing the meaning of Christ to be Truth, blood to be life or word, and sin to be error, we catch the spiritual meaning of the phrase 'sins washed away by the blood of Christ,' which is, sins or errors washed away by the word of Truth.

"In that wonderful sermon in the sixth chapter of John, Jesus used the term blood as a symbol of his words, and emphatically told his disciples, when they persisted in taking his sayings literally, 'the flesh profiteth nothing, the words that I speak unto you, they are spirit and they are life.'

"That the Bible writers used the figurative language of those times, must be taken into account when reading points that have been made foundation doctrines. Owing to the ancient custom of sacrificing animals to appease the wrath of God, whom they regarded as subject to anger, jealousy or any human passion, they used figurative language when describing Jesus as the Lamb sacrificed for the sins of the world.

"In one of the inspired moments of the prophet, when he apprehended God as a God of Love, he cried out, 'I have desired mercy and not sacrifice; and the knowledge of God more than burnt offering.' It is the knowledge of God, the word of truth, that will save, and the only sacrifice is the sacrifice of self which makes the atonement possible.

"To fast from all selfishness is to keep the true fast, so beautifully described in the fifty-eighth chapter of Isaiah. 'Is it not to loose the bands of wickedness, to undo the heavy burdens, to let the oppressed go free, to break every yoke? Then shall thy light break forth as the morning, and thine health shall spring forth speedily.' Here is the fruit of atonement, the result of understanding, for understanding God and being at one with God, is in reality the same. As we understand God we shall be at one with Him, and to be at one with God is to be whole, for He is Holiness, wholeness, health. 'If thine eye be single, then shall thy whole body be full of light.' To be single in recognizing the one Mind, one Power, one Creation, is to be filled with light, which is life, which is health, for as the mind, consciousness, becomes illuminated, the body responds by recording the history of thought upon the visible page or body.

"It is the revealment of God that we seek, and our individual relation to Him. What more is there for us to know after we know Him, for is not He all there really is? He has given many marvelous signs to His children, who must be taught in simple childish ways and the 'still small voice' is ever near, speaking to whomsoever will listen. It is the inner guide, the 'spirit of truth that guides us into all truth.' Then we are 'clothed upon,' we have returned to our Father's house and the feast is spread, the rejoicing has begun.

"For awhile our only conception of power, is in visible manifestations or feelings, but there comes a time when 'to be alone with silence is to be alone with God,' when joy is unutterable, and love the very potency of silence, when we wait with bated breath and let the divine Thought surge through us, when we put away all material beliefs and stand glorified in the 'secret of His Presence.' Then indeed are we baptized of the spirit, and in the silent chamber of our new consciousness may we hear the blessed words, 'Thou art my beloved son.'

"No longer 'Thou shalt and thou shalt not,' but the sweet affirmation of sonship, of daughtership, of the precious benediction of a Father's love. Then glad light rushes into every dark crevice of our mind. We see as we never saw before, we understand as we never understood before, we speak as we never spoke before, we live as we never lived before, because we have been lifted out of the depths of ignorance to the radiant heights of the Promised Land, because we hear the angel saying as of old, 'Behold the tabernacle of God is with men, and he will dwell with them, and they shall be his people, and God himself shall be with them and be their God ... and God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes, and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain, for the former things are passed away.' Finally, oh my husband, because we have been born again, and so find ourselves within the royal gates, the palace doors open to receive us and the insignia of royalty written upon our faces, for we shall be stamped with the signs of understanding, and know, as Jesus did, 'it is not I, but the Father that dwelleth in me, He doeth the works.'

"Then, as the beauteous sunlight bathes and blesses all the world with its effulgent glory, so will the light of Truth, known as understanding, shine through us and turn pain into peace, sadness into joy, sickness into health, error into truth.

'Wisdom ripens into silence, And the lesson she doth teach, Is, that life is more than language, And that thought is more than speech.'

"How I long for this ultimate experience! How I yearn for the fullness of this knowledge now; for the ripened wisdom that shall unlock the doors of my own consciousness, but I know, dear, this will come to us if we are faithful to the few little steps we know, no matter how we stumble and fall in taking them. Oh, that we may reach out to all the world in the sweet ministry of 'peace on earth, good will to men.'

"You say 'there is a rift in the clouds for you, too, and the vague something which sometimes loomed up in your horizon is gone.' How glad I am, no words can tell. What a change there will be! The old past shall be sweetened and sanctified by the new present, and only the good memories shall remain.

"What a blessed comfort in this thought, 'the Lord shall be thy rear ward.' We have nothing to do with the past, for it shall be utterly annulled. The Truth has erased it, and it is swallowed up in the good in proportion as we recognize only the Good. This thought is a great consolation to me when I recall the hasty words I used to say when my temper got the better of me. Oh, that old failing! I hope it is forever vanquished—but there, I must not forget to be scientific, and of course it is not scientific to talk of error in any way.

"Jamie is a dear little scamp, if he did try to break the rules and get something to eat between meals by playing prairie dog. It must have been very funny to see him sitting in the attitude of a begging dog, mutely appealing for something, and being obliged at last to suggest that there was candy on the top shelf. Even my heart would have softened for the innocent little trickster.

"Well, really, we must try to give the children the liberty we older children desire and insist upon having in such a headstrong way. Bless my little darlings! They shall realize the absence of fear, the presence of love in their home, which we must strive more and more to make typical of the great Home in which we are all members.

"I feel that they are dearer now than ever. My love is more unselfish, and I can really feel that they are truly consecrated to the Good, because I know how to hold them in the thought of the Good, how to annul the opposite influences and fill their minds with the sweet, pure, ennobling realizations of Love. Meekly I say this, because I know not my own strength, or rather I know not how much divine strength I may recognize and use, but this is the right path, and I earnestly desire to walk in it.

"You know some people say (in their ignorance, of course) that this free thinking breaks up families. Oh, if they could only know, on the other hand, how it strengthens the bonds, how it clears up misunderstandings and falsities, how it teaches us the sacredness of family relations, and brings us into spiritual oneness, which is the only true marriage.

"Spiritual light has come to me on this subject which can not be put into words, but some time you will know what I know, and we shall both be blessed by the knowledge.

"Peace be unto all God's children.

"Your loving

"MARION."



CHAPTER XXVI.

"If thou art worn and hard beset, With troubles that thou would'st forget, If thou would'st read a lesson that will keep Thy heart from fainting and thy soul from sleep, Go to the woods and hills! No tears Dim the sweet look that Nature wears."

—H. W. Longfellow.

Grace was in deep perplexity. She pondered her problem over and over, and though in reality she felt more like flinging pride to the winds than ever before, she was not able to formulate or even consciously name her thoughts. A strange, unsettled feeling possessed her. She wondered at herself that she did not contemptuously throw this letter of Leon Carrington's into the fire, as she had the other two, but for some reason did not do so. All night she was uneasy and slept but little. The next morning she announced to Kate that she would spend the day at Rosewood, sketching.

What the trouble was, Kate could only surmise, but wisely held her peace feeling instinctively that now was no time for questions. She was relieved to hear of the prospective recreation, for Grace always came back from these trips with so much fresh inspiration, and renewed enthusiasm.

It was a beautiful day, one of those mild, hazy days of October that seem made to teach humanity some of its most sacred lessons. Nature is the best of teachers if we know how to read her mystic pages, her many and varied beauties, her wide diversities of expression, her fine subtlety of language, for she is the handmaid of Truth, inasmuch as she holds before our admiring eyes pictures of Truth and its wondrous laws. If we can interpret the pictures, we are wiser and better and happier.

Grace was ever ready to listen to the oracles of nature, but now they held a sweeter message than ever before, and she keenly anticipated the pleasure in store for her as she seated herself in the car and disposed of her sketching materials for the half hour's ride to Rosewood, a pretty little woodland station near Hampton.

She generally walked the mile and a half to the farmhouse in the edge of the woods, where she had made the acquaintance of a kind hearted old lady, who loaned her a great Newfoundland dog belonging to the house, for company in her rambles.

Mrs. Clayland was rejoiced to see her, for it had been several weeks since Grace had called, and she was eager to tell her of the great tree up in the ravine that had been blasted by the lightning, and about the beautiful little waterfall caused by the Cherry Creek freshet.

Grace listened patiently as she rested, and asked questions that she had asked many times before, because it pleased the old lady to tell of all the beautiful spots and dainty bits of landscape in her vicinity. That was next to being the artist.

Prince stood by, looking with intelligent eyes, first at the visitor and then at his mistress, wagging his tail wistfully as though eager to be off, for he seemed to realize that this was his holiday too.

"Are you ready to go, Prince?" asked Grace, patting the dog on the head as she looked into his great brown eyes.

Prince licked his mouth and pushed his nose close under her hand while his tail wagged violently. "Yes, of course he is. I wish my old limbs would let me go too, but I can't even hobble to-day for the rheumatism has been dreadful the last week," said Mrs. Clayland, as she wiped her spectacles.

Grace hardly knew what to say, for here was just the place for a little sympathy, and yet she must shut her eyes to false beliefs and conditions, so she wisely talked of the beautiful day, the warm air, and what not, while secretly resolving that Mrs. Clayland should be her first patient if she ever knew how to treat patients according to the Christ method. In the mean time, she would give her some thoughts.

While Mrs. Clayland volubly rattled on, talking of all her aches and pains, Grace was doing her best to think of the very opposite statement, that she was well.

At last, however, with Prince trotting gaily in front of her, she began her rambles in earnest. She knew of a beautiful view from one of the hills near by, and slowly wended her way thitherward. The hush and quiet of the place seemed such a relief after the troubled hours of the past night, and as she came to the gentle slope of the grassy hill, she threw herself into the soft warm grass, in the shade of a stately elm that stood there alone, and gave herself up to thinking—thinking of the deepest and most sacred problems in human experience.

Prince came and laid himself at her feet. The soft autumn sunshine played here and there upon her form and face through the leaves, while the occasional note of a bird or hum of an insect were the only sounds that broke the stillness of the lonely place. What an exquisite pleasure to lie there and breathe in all this wonderful peace, for it was like a taste of heaven. Far away from all perplexities and cares, she could have lost herself in sweet forgetfulness but for this one theme that would persist in thrusting itself upon her. At last it had resolved itself into the form of a question. Should she or should she not write to Leon Carrington? Might it not be possible she had been misinformed, and that she was mistaken in her hasty conclusions?

Life presented a different aspect now from what it had two years ago. She was more lenient in her judgments, more charitable in her opinions, more softened in her pride; changed more than she ever realized until she began the self examination on this point. To be sure she had desired to change in these respects, since she had seen a glimpse of the possibilities of Christian life. She had denied all qualities of character in herself that seemed undesirable, and had affirmed charitableness, patience, wisdom, but that she could ever have changed her mind on this subject seemed incredible and utterly inconsistent.

And yet, what could she say to him? She had no answer, certainly no encouragement. The only thing she could do would be to tell him frankly what her thought and judgment had been, without going into details, and learn the truth of the matter; but that, she would never do. Whatever injury she had inflicted through her silent, erroneous thoughts should be as silently redressed by her best and most generous ones.

Over an hour she lay there, no nearer the solution of her problem than when she began. It was getting late, and she rose hurriedly, shook the leaves and grass from her dress, and opening her sketch book, set to work.

An opening to the left in the woods revealed a view of lovely meadows and wooded hills, clothed in all the gorgeous robes of autumn, with a misty blue haze enshrouding them, and gleams of a silvery river winding through meadow and woodland. She rapidly sketched the outlines, studied the beauteous blending of tints, and wondered meanwhile, what particular lesson she could learn or give by this beautiful picture. Again she looked at the scene before her. Suddenly there came into her mind some lines she had often admired:

"Oh, the peace at the heart of Nature, Oh, the light that is not of day! Why seek it afar forever, When it can not be lifted away?"

Ah, here was the key. "The peace of Nature," typical of divine peace, "The Light not of day," divine Light itself. How sweet the thought, how precious the lesson; and the divine Peace and Light are indeed forever here. Could she throw such a divine message into her prospective painting? Could she make every form and color, every hint of light and shadow, tell the sweet story, as this living picture told it? Surely, the heart that overflows with an inbreathing of the divine, must be able to teach the common heart of humanity, else what is the use of inspiration?

On her way back to the house, Grace passed the blasted tree, described by Mrs. Clayland, but she had no desire to study destruction or death. It was life, living things, that she would portray. Was there not beauty and grandeur everywhere, hinting of Infinity? Even the noisy and monotonous waterfall now had a message for her as it rushed forcefully on its course, regardless of any and all obstructions.

It was quite late when Grace and Prince returned, much later than she supposed, so that she missed the train and had to wait for the next, several hours later. Mr. Clayland kindly volunteered to take her to the station, an offer she was very glad to accept.

The lamps were already lighted when she entered the car. She slipped into the first vacant seat, but caught a glimpse of a face several seats in front of her that made her heart beat hurriedly and her breath come quick and fast for a few moments.

She resolutely avoided looking anywhere but out of the window, and at the end of her journey quietly but quickly disappeared in the surging crowd.



CHAPTER XXVII.

"Let me not dwell so much within My bounded heart with anxious heed, Where all my searches meet with doubt, And nothing satisfies my need; It shuts me from the sound and sight Of that pure world of life and light Which has no breadth, or length, or height."

—A. L. Waring.

Kate had long ago become accustomed to these uncertain movements of Grace, and was therefore not alarmed at her prolonged absence. She sat in a cozy chair, reading the last letter from Mrs. Hayden, when Grace entered.

"What makes you look so sober, Gracious?" she asked, tenderly, after the hat and sketch book were laid aside and they had settled themselves for their usual chat.

"Oh, Kate, I had a lovely time to-day, with all the beautiful sights out in the country; I wish you could see how much more there is in nature since we have studied Christian Healing," was the evasive reply.

"I think we see more in everything," said Kate, whose curiosity was rather piqued by the evasiveness, though she made no sign, "because everything stands for something. It is like the x in algebra, and interesting as the unknown quantity."

Grace smiled a little. She was thinking of a different kind of "unknown quantity."

"Don't you want to hear Mrs. Hayden's letter?" asked Kate, wondering more and more over the distrait manner and dreamy absorption of her friend.

"The letter, why, of course; where is it?"

"Here; shall I read it?"

"Certainly."

Grace grew more interested as the reading went on. "That is decidedly the most reasonable explanation of the atonement I have ever heard," she exclaimed at the close.

"Yes, it is reasonable and beautiful I must admit," said Kate, "but when I first read the letter my old fear came back for a moment that possibly it was all wrong, but I remembered my right to an interpretation. That one thought has been more helpful to me than any other, for it has brought such a sense of liberty. Then I looked up the quotation about the 'word of reconciliation,' and I must say it is so perfectly plain I can not see why it has been so overlooked and neglected before."

"Where is it? I did not catch that," said Grace, following Kate's finger as she pointed to the passage in the Bible.

"There is something so sacred in these meanings," resumed Kate, "and if I may only get the truth, I care not what any one says about it. I see now wherein lies the whole misconception or misinterpretation rather. It is in the idea of God. If we conceive of Him as limited to human ways and capacities, as the ancient Hebrews did, we naturally ascribe such works to Him."

"In other words," added Grace, "we judge God entirely by ourselves. If we are broad and loving in our nature and character it is easy for us to regard God as love. If we are vindictive and revengeful, we can readily see Him as angry and unrelenting."

"Yes, we are so apt to judge the whole world and God, too, by our moods," replied Kate, thoughtfully.

"As Emerson says, 'we see in others what we are ourselves,'" quoted Grace, removing her jacket which until now she had retained in order to get warm after her evening journey.

"Oh! what do you think of what Mrs. Hayden says about marriage?" asked Kate, putting her pencil in her mouth as she held both hands out to assist Grace.

"She doesn't say enough to give an opinion," replied Grace, "but there must be something in her mind or she would not write about it now."

"Her ideas must be very exalted, and I hope to know what they are, for it is a very important question," said Kate, with a casual glance toward her companion, as she bit the end of the pencil.

"Mrs. Hayden decidedly denies the imputation laid to Christian Healing, that it is opposed to marriage, or that it tends to separate families," said Grace, with more interest than Kate would have thought possible a week ago.

"I did not know any such imputation had been laid to it," rejoined Kate, opening her eyes in astonishment.

"Oh, yes, I have heard it several times, but people will talk whether they know anything or not. I am glad Mrs. Hayden mentions it for that is enough to show there is absolutely no foundation for such statements." Grace moved her chair and put her elbow on the table so she might shade her eyes with her hand.

"Why, I don't see how people can say such things; surely the tendency is to draw families into closer bonds of sympathy and affection," exclaimed Kate, in questioning innocence.

"It ought to be," replied Grace, thoughtfully, "and undoubtedly is," she added.

"What do you think of this question, Grace?" Kate ventured to ask. At any other time she would not have dared approach the subject, but Grace seemed more pliable to-night for some reason.

"What question?" asked Grace, rousing from her reverie. "Oh, marriage. Well, sometimes I have thought the query going the rounds of the press, 'Is marriage a failure?' a very pertinent one, but of course that doesn't touch the principle itself. That is right and can never be otherwise."

"Most people talk and write as seriously as though it does touch the principle."

"That is because they judge the principle by the persons representing it, whereas they should stop and consider that humanity is prone to weakness and often fails to demonstrate its high ideals."

"And it is because of failure they think there is something wrong. Take an individual case, for instance, and there are thousands. If a girl marries unhappily, she thinks there must be something wrong in the whole system, for she judges everybody's misery by her own," said Kate, secretly wishing Grace would be more confidential, and not so coldly intellectual.

"Then the way to a happy judgment of this question would be a happy marriage, you think?" laughed Grace, with a faint blush, looking up inquiringly.

"Don't trifle Grace. You know I said it all earnestly, and really it is no matter to trifle over, any way."

"Well, that is true, Kate," replied Grace more soberly. "I don't believe anybody takes the question seriously enough. It is certainly the most important of all things to consider."

"Do you think it right to enter marriage for any other reason than pure and devoted affection?" persisted Kate.

"No, I do not. Why do you ask?" demanded Grace rather sharply.

"Because that is the solution of the whole problem. If they would begin to talk about love instead of marriage being a failure, they would get some light on it," a little impatiently.

Grace looked up in surprise.

"I know," continued Kate, "it is because people are mistaken or misled in their reasons for marriage, that it even has a semblance of failure."

"That is one reason, certainly, and another is that they do not understand each other's motives, or have not the patience to bear with each other's faults. We can easily see how misunderstandings can be put away when there is true love, when we determine to see only the good, and learn to 'resist not evil.' That is one of the strong points in Jesus the Christ's teachings," said Grace with unwonted earnestness.

"I am so sorry people can't see it in the right light," added Kate, regretfully.

"You can have much charity for them, for it is just what you would have said or thought, if you had not studied the matter yourself. You remember how Mr. Narrow influenced you and biased your judgment?"

"Yes, and I see as never before that the 'Truth makes us free.'

'He is a freeman whom the truth makes free. And all are slaves besides,'"

said Grace, as she reached for the sketch book to look over her work of the afternoon.

"It is no use, she never will say anything, even when she might," thought Kate as she reviewed the events of the past few days. She half reproached herself for allowing anything to take her mind from the one special theme in which at last she had become thoroughly interested. She was eager to learn, to search in all directions for the meaning of things. Slowly the little grain of faith was growing into the mighty tree.

Enchanting Truth so round, so perfect, so beautiful,—no wonder we must reach out in every direction for the knowledge of thy fair signs that we may more correctly and more fully realize the perfect revealment of our own divinity.



CHAPTER XXVIII.

"What a great power is the power of thought! And what a grand being is man when he uses it aright; because after all, it is the use made of it that is the important thing. Character comes out of thought. 'As a man thinketh in his heart, so he is.'"—Sir Walter Raleigh.

"MARLOW, October ——.

"Dear Husband: I was just thinking of you all when the letter carrier came this morning and gave me a welcome surprise, for your letters usually come in the afternoon. It seems too wonderful to believe about the children, and yet I can see it is their implicit faith that makes their words so potent.

"They are doing their part to help too, for every one in the world, large or small helps in greater or lesser measure to carry out the plans of the invisible Good.

"I dreamed of being at home last night, and it seemed as though you were all so happy and busy. You did not see me. Even little Jem was busily engaged in some kind of work. I could scarcely see what it was, but a vague white something like an invisible net was spread between you, and the thought came that you and Anna were weaving something, and even the children had a part to fulfill for they flitted to and fro, bringing something to you with faces so full of light and happiness, I almost cried out with joy.

"When I awoke I was deeply impressed that this was a symbol of united effort in making the seamless robe of Truth, and the family group represented the members of one body, each with a work to do to perfect the whole.

"No matter how humble our part may be, no matter how childish and incompetent we feel, by doing the best we know, with the ability we have, in all joy and earnestness, we shall be serving the Master and weaving the marvelous robe.

"Mrs. Pearl talked of the mighty power of thought in her lecture to-day.

"Every individual in the universe is inseparably connected with every other individual, and we are, as it were, 'touching elbows' with the whole world.

"How is it done? Simply by thinking and being susceptible to thought. Every thought of the individual helps to make or mar the happiness and health of the world. Every negative thought (and by that I mean opposite the good, which is positive) sent forth, goes into the miasmatic fog of error, and whoever believes in error or the reality of these thoughts, attracts to himself this quality of thought, which sooner or later, makes itself manifest in physical inharmony.

"For instance, one who believes in the reality of sickness and the reality of evil is constantly attracting thoughts that make sickness manifest, but if a knowledge of how to throw off or counteract those thoughts were used, the cloud would be dispelled before it turned into inharmony or sickness.

"This is why we are taught to deny every thought or feeling that is not harmonious or desirable, everything which can not be predicated of spirit. If this is what makes sickness and sin, truly it is not to be wondered at, for how many are perfectly happy, perfectly unselfish and kind, one single day at a time?

"Suppose one gets up in the morning with a feeling of crossness and impatience; he goes to breakfast, impresses the whole family with his discomfort, and so through the entire day leaves the imprint of his dark forebodings on every person who sees him, besides the untold influence that goes forth to the unprotected world, inasmuch as thoughts go everywhere.

"He retires at night, disgusted with himself and displeased with the whole world. People were unkind and unjust. Even inanimate objects were unusually aggravating. He wasted half an hour trying to untie a knot, hunted for a package of papers which were finally found in their proper place, had a vexing ten minutes with his office key, etc.

"Every impatient thought, word or action was an expenditure, not only of physical force, but a loss of moral strength, and just as surely as the world moves, these thoughts, in their revolving circuit, constantly return to the thinker, 'Whatsoever ye sow, that shall ye also reap.'

"Who knows what dark trains of thought his lowering face suggested? Who knows what headaches and heartaches were brought on by the unconscious absorption of his impatience or bitterness? Who can measure the extent of that mysterious burden of depression, so often called 'the blues,' that crept into the consciousness of somebody under the influence of the dark thoughts sent out by this one, of whom perchance they know nothing?

"It is this negative quality of thought that holds the world in bondage. To destroy it is to destroy all inharmony. On the other hand, note the influence of the happy-voiced individual, who comes to us so running over with the joy and beauty of life that we catch the thrilling inspiration of his mood and begin to enjoy the same sunshine, see the same beauty and feel the same happiness.

"One look or one word may often send us off into the most delightful reveries, may inspire us to write a cheery letter, vibrating with love and hope, or prompt us to spend half an hour with one who needs the bath of joy our words may bring. Consciously and unconsciously we lighten the pathway, lift the burdens, sanctify the sorrows of the world by sending out and receiving this subtle thread of thought, so fine in its essence and quality, that any one and every one may feel its strengthening presence.

"It is the negative or mortal thought that produces disease. See how grief bends and breaks the strongest constitutions, furrows the cheek, dims the eye, takes the appetite, impairs the mind. See how anger cankers everything it touches, how jealousy corrodes the thoughts with poisoned arrows, until the body is written over with letters of unmistakable meaning.

"The body is what we may call the thermometer of the mind and registers the quality of thought. Universal beliefs in error find their common expression on the body. Every thought of sickness, sin or discouragement is recorded or bodied forth.

"With all our belief in and fear of evil, sickness and death, we are continually subjecting ourselves to false and undesirable conditions, until, as Job said, 'Lo, the thing that I feared has come upon me.'

"Fear is more quickly productive of disease pictures than any other kind of thought. Some one has aptly said, 'if the human race were freed from fear, it would be free from sickness,' which is verily true. Even the most learned doctors of medicine admit that an epidemic takes hold of those first who are most afraid, and frequently leaves the absolutely fearless unmolested.

"Why is this so? Because fear weakens the power of mental control, and consequently weakens the body. To leave the doors unlocked, and then watch for the thief, is almost equal to having the thief in the house.

"The material scientist says an epidemic has a material cause; the Christian healer says it has a mental cause. Before there is an object to fear there must be the sentiment of fear. Let scarlet fever appear in a community, and every parent will immediately send out the most agonizing thoughts of fear. Where will they go? Everywhere, because thoughts can not be restrained. Their influence goes out in every direction. To the tender children especially, because particularly directed to them. All who have left the door open to fear, though they may be sleeping in their unconsciousness of danger, will be liable to receive these uncontrolled thoughts, and some day when they least expect or fear sickness, it may be upon them.

"So the children, to whom have been directed such thoughts, only prove their susceptibility to them, by picturing forth fear in the form of scarlet fever, or whatever may have been the naming of the error. Anybody manifesting sickness without consciousness of fear proves passive or unconscious fear, while those suffering sickness through a conscious recognition and fear of sickness are manifesting active or conscious fear.

"There are two departments of mind sometimes spoken of as the conscious and unconscious. The conscious mind is the conscious thought, which is easily swayed or changed. It has an immediate or direct influence on the body as is shown by the blood that rushes to or recedes from the face at some sudden change of thought. The unconscious mind is the aggregation of past individual and universal conscious thought, and is the character formed, the second nature or instinct.

"As the flesh and bones are more fixed than the ever moving blood, so the unconscious mind is slower to receive impressions, and slower to show them forth. Our bodies to-day are showing a harvest of the thoughts of generations or ages of the past. The person manifesting consumptive tendencies is not only expressing his own conscious thoughts, but is veritably the picture of the thoughts of his parents, ancestors and the entire race, concerning a belief in consumption. Year by year the thoughts of this error have been writing themselves in his face, his eyes, his chest, his very walk and talk and breath. Unless he offsets them with thoughts of absolute Truth, they press him out of our sight. He yields to the belief of death, because he never said no to sin or sickness, because he was at one with the world in its false beliefs.

"'The last enemy to be overcome is death!' reads the inspired statement of Paul, confirmed and strengthened by the Master's never-dying promise, 'If a man keep my saying he shall never see death.'

"There are certain fixed beliefs inherent in every mind which we call universal beliefs. They are often referred to as belonging to the unconscious mind; as, for example, the fear of pain or suffering under certain circumstances will come to the surface of consciousness, proving that despite every feeling of confidence and fearlessness it has not been destroyed, but sleeps in the unconscious mind.

"These unconscious beliefs and fears of sickness are ultimately expressed on the body in different forms of disease, sometimes given one name and sometimes another. The material scientist calls a certain outshowing on the body cancer, the Christian healer calls it the picture of a belief of cancer. In this way disease is always the manifestation of both conscious and unconscious thoughts.

"Special forms of disease are born by constant attention to the thought of disease and their symptoms. It has been stated on good authority that physicians who make a specialty of certain diseases are apt to be afflicted with what they have especially fitted themselves to cure. In a medical journal a case was cited not long since of an eminent physician who read before a great convention of doctors, what was considered to be the ablest treatise on insanity ever written. 'On going home from the convention he killed his wife, four children, and then himself, in a fit of dementia.'

"This reveals a startling fact, which might be corroborated by many others, that the body ultimately pictures forth the idea. But the thought is not confined to the individual. It not infrequently finds the most striking expression in some member of the family or in any one under his influence.

"If one man's thoughts so influence himself, family or friend, think of the influence of such thoughts on those who go to him for advice or treatment, those who deliberately place themselves under his inspection and allow themselves to be guided both directly and indirectly by his erroneous opinions. Think of the vast stream of such thoughts going out from all medical colleges, students and practitioners. No wonder diseases increase as physicians increase, as some of the best thinkers of the age declare.

"Not that one class of people is more to be reflected upon than another, for some kind or degree of erroneous thought is held by all classes. Physicians talk sickness and death, ministers preach evil and punishment, the entire race believe in and suffer for sins.

"It is centuries since it was first discovered that ideas were transmitted without the ordinarily accepted means of communication, but, to-day it is positively and repeatedly, yes, continually proven that thought transference is not only possible or probable, but an every-day occurrence. To realize that

'Thoughts are things. Endowed with being, breath and wings, And that we send them forth to fill The world with good results or ill,'

is to be mightily responsible for what we think. To know that we are verily our brother's keeper, and that every thought makes misery or happiness for the whole world as well as for the individual, is something that should engage our deepest and most earnest consideration.

"All thinking is for the weal or woe of the world that is yet in its infancy of knowledge. As consciousness of truth takes the place of consciousness of error, thoughts become light and beautiful and true with corresponding conditions.

"Let us no longer slumber in the arms of indifference and ignorance, but awake to truth and righteousness. 'Better be unborn than untaught; for ignorance is the root of misfortune.'"



CHAPTER XXIX.

"Blessed influence of one true, loving soul on another. Not calculable by algebra, not deductible by logic, but mysterious, effectual, mighty as the hidden process by which the tiny seed is quickened, and bursts forth into tall stem and broad leaf, and glowing tasseled flower."—George Eliot.

"Oh dear!" exclaimed Kate as she laid down the letter containing the lesson on Thought. "I didn't know we were so responsible for every little thing that comes into our mind."

"Or goes out of it," said Grace, smiling, as she finished tinting a dainty plaque. "Now we can understand that 'where ignorance is bliss, 'tis folly to be wise,'" she added rather absent-mindedly.

"Yes, but I think I prefer the wisdom to the bliss. Do you understand this lecture as well as the rest?" asked Kate, again glancing at the letter.

"Why shouldn't we? It is plainly told, and is a natural sequence to the others. I should think it very helpful, and if there really is so much power in thought, it is time people knew it."

"But what of the people who do not know it? Are they utterly defenseless?"

"As long as they believe in the reality of sin, sickness and death, they must suffer from them," replied Grace, picking a loose hair from her blender.

"Then they ought to know how to learn and understand these things, but I could not tell anybody."

"We can solve any problem by going back and reasoning from the premise. If any shock of sin or sickness come over us, we have simply to remember the spiritual, which is the only real creation."

"It is not so easily done though. To-day I met the most miserable looking cripple sliding along without any limbs. I held my skirts aside as he passed, and forgot to even think of him as God's child," confessed Kate, in a regretful tone.

"Anything takes time, and we can't expect to leap into perfection at once, but what did you do after he had passed?" asked Grace, with some curiosity.

"I pitied the poor creature and wondered what made him so."

"That was the very way to keep him in the same condition," said Grace, rapidly mixing some paint. "This last lesson very clearly explains that every thought has an influence, and that you help to make the body manifest whatever you think of it. If you think the real and true, you help to make that show forth, if you only think of the external or apparent trouble or defect, and regard it as the real, you are harming instead of helping."

"I can readily see that we may affect ourselves, but it seems hard to believe that we affect everybody," protested Kate, incredulously.

"It is because we cannot realize the law of thought transference. I was reading just last week about that. An instance of Stuart C. Cumberland's mind-reading was cited. It was wonderful. And then long ago I read an old book written by Cornelius Agrippa about it, but I was not very much interested, and did not understand nor believe it at the time, so my memory is not worth much concerning it."

"Then you really think I added another weight to that unhappy creature's burden of trouble?" cried Kate, in sharp surprise.

"It would be best for you to deny his apparent conditions and affirm his real ones, and instead of thoughts of pity, which are only weakening, you could think of happiness and contentment. I truly believe we can learn to think of people this way, if we only catch ourselves for correction every time we think wrong."

"How shall I ever learn to bridle my thoughts?" was Kate's despairing wail.

"By learning to bridle your tongue; I found a splendid text to-day on that very theme. It is in James iii: 2. 'If any man offend not in word, the same is a perfect man, and able to bridle the whole body.'

"Why, it tells in those few words the substance of all we have learned in these lessons," exclaimed Kate.

"Only we would never have had sense enough to understand without the lessons," added Grace, with a smile.

"They may be likened to a golden key that opens royal gates," said Kate, going to the piano to play while Grace was putting away her paints and brushes.

A little later Grace went out to mail a letter. As she turned from the post-box, she found herself face to face with—whom but Leon Carrington?

"Ah, an unexpected pleasure, Miss Hall!" he said, extending his hand and warmly grasping the one she slowly held out to him. He looked searchingly into her face, with clear, questioning eyes.

She dropped her lashes and drew back with a touch of the old haughtiness, murmuring something he could not hear.

"May I have the pleasure of a little walk with you?" he asked, suiting his step to hers and ignoring her apparent coldness.

"Certainly. How long since you returned to Hampton, Mr. Carrington?" recovering herself as they walked.

"Only a few days ago. I was called here on business for my uncle, and will probably be detained several weeks." He glanced at her as he spoke, but she gave no sign, only remarking it was a lovely season of the year for a visit. They walked along, talking only commonplaces, until they neared her home.

"Did you receive my letter, Miss Gra—Miss Hall?" he asked, with some unsteadiness in his voice.

"Yes," she replied, shortly. She did not understand herself any more than he did, and was vexed to find it so impossible to throw off her old proud ways, for she really intended to relent enough, at least, to have an explanation, and possibly—her thoughts could never go farther than this, and here she was, in the same imperious way, shutting her better self away from even a fair consideration of duty. These thoughts flashed through her mind while she walked on, apparently with the greatest indifference to either his words or his presence. But with a great effort she compelled herself to say again, with more warmth, "I received it, and intended to answer before this, but—" She stopped abruptly.

He gratefully caught the morsel she had given, and asked if he might not call the next day.

"Yes, you may come at three," she said, careful to set a time when Kate would surely be out.

At the door they parted, and as she went up the stairs, she wondered more than ever at her hardness, for almost unconsciously she had given up all doubts of his honor as a gentleman. What was it all about anyway? Nothing but a report that he was engaged to a young lady at the time he proposed to her, and on the testimony of a single friend, she had allowed herself to be miserable, and make another miserable, through this foolish pride that she would conquer by to-morrow afternoon.

What! would she compel herself to so utterly ignore her own nature? She leaned against the wall half way up the stairway, startled at this revelation of herself. She did not know she was capable of such changes, and yet the last two weeks had greatly modified her opinions in many things.... Why should it not be so? If it were right she could be glad, and she reverently felt that it was right to let the Truth erase all errors and right all wrongs. To-night she would deny away every fault in her character, especially pride, deny every obstacle to understanding, and then earnestly ask for guidance, and wait till it came, for this was truly a crisis in her life.

The next day she received her guest with a perceptibly softened manner. The hour was spent in mutual explanations, and the renewal of a more friendly relation on her part, much to the satisfaction of Mr. Carrington, whose perseverance was surely worthy this much reward, but Grace would go no further, although she gave him permission to call again. She must know herself fully before another word on the subject were said. Marriage was a vague and solemn theme, something to be pondered over days and nights and months perhaps, she thought, and said to him.

Mr. Carrington was a man of earnest aim and high purpose, thoughtful, intellectual and cultured, in every way congenial to her, and she was glad to accept his friendship. That he had loved her through all her coldness and neglect, she no longer doubted, which fact was of no small import in his chances for her favor. Finding how absolutely false had been the report that had caused her misjudgment, she was anxious to prove herself at least, a friend.

After he was gone she reviewed the situation. Had she gone too far? No. All was well. She was content. Even if it should end in marriage, for marriage was the highest symbol of perfection and—. What the symbol meant was yet to be revealed, but she already knew that it had a profound and sacred meaning.



CHAPTER XXX.

"The study of Heredity, spiritual anatomy and physiology is highest of all. The key to this study is your own soul. Study yourself; gain possession and mastery of your own spirit and you hold the key not only to the heights of liberty, but the key that unlocks imprisoned souls."—Mary Weeks Burnett M. D.

"MARLOW, October——.

"My dear husband: Gradually the vision broadens and we become more accustomed to the light. It is as though we were put into a beautiful room filled with all manner of lovely forms and dainty colors, flowers and perfumes, where we have groped blindfolded from one thing to another, trying to form some conception of the surpassing loveliness, when gradually the bandage is removed, layer by layer until the whole enchanting scene, radiant with light is revealed to our wondering gaze, showing the vast difference between supposition and reality.

"The light grew clearer than ever to-day, for we had our first practical hint on healing, inasmuch as we were told how to take up a case for treatment.

"We must never forget that we are, and wish to remain as little children, in our desire to apprehend and understand Truth. The natural attitude of the child-mind is one of receptivity and eager interest. Under the guidance of wise parents he will always be willing and anxious to learn more and more, continually growing in wisdom and love.

"Back to the zeal and innocence of childhood we go then, to learn the ever mysterious but ever charming alphabet of Truth, which leads us into the kingdom.

"As we present ourselves in the great school room of life, and take or recognize our appointed place beside the ever present School-master, we learn the letters of the grand knowledge that shall teach us how to read the most learned books, understand the deepest philosophy, the profoundest science, the divinest religion. We would learn the ministry of healing, that will set free the 'spirits in prison;' we would be glad messengers of the gospel of peace. The door to great attainments is faithfulness in small ones.

"There are three kinds or modes of healing. The first or lowest, is the intellectual; the second or next higher, the intuitional; the third and highest, the spiritual. The first only can be taught, the other two are attained by individual development. The first comes by reason, the second by faith, the third by understanding. The first is by argument or a system of reasoning, the second by implicit trust or confidence in the Principle, the third by the realization of Truth and the speaking of the word or perchance, by one's very presence.

"But there is nothing arbitrary about this. The person who never heard of Christ's teaching till yesterday may have so caught the fire of Truth that to-day he stands at the altar a priest instead of communicant, a teacher instead of pupil.

"Many just beginning their study of this method of healing require explicit directions and explanations of details, in order to apply the principle, feeling that they have no intuitional leadings and can not depend upon the invisible power because they know so little about it.

"Wait; be patient; trust. Remember that 'he who is faithful in little, shall be made ruler over much.' You need not learn the rule if you learn the principle, and only so long as you are ignorant of the principle will you need the rule. To use the rule, as the child uses the chair in learning to walk, is to grow strong, and able to dispense with it; to use it as spectacles are used, is to make it indispensable.

"If we can not yet learn through divine ways, let us learn through human ways. The human is inadequate to express the divine, but many nameless hints and light-gleams and sudden illuminations will flash upon the faithful worker all along the way. Words are signs of ideas and ideas are signs of God. When we think or speak true words, we have begun our mission of healing or helpfulness, and from words we go on to the inexpressible thrill of realization.

"We can not tell when we may thus change from the letter to the spirit, can not tell when we come into the exalted condition of a spiritual understanding, and having received the illumination, we are not to feel that we have grown above the use of argument, for it may be necessary to go back to the rule with the very next treatment.

"Above all else must the student of this Truth guard against what may be called spiritual pride. No thought of supremacy or greater advancement should be harbored for a moment. All such things are clouds that obscure the light as much as other material beliefs.

"To gauge ourselves by that inimitable thirteenth chapter of I. Corinthians is to maintain the perfect equilibrium of a loving, charitable heart, that can heal and bless all human-kind, for 'love never faileth.'

"We become, as it were, the cleansed window pane, through which shines the divine light of Truth. Could we always be the cleansed pane, Truth would melt away all error, just as the sun melts the frostwork, but being still in the current of human thought we must wait patiently for further power to reveal the God-likeness.

"Wrong thought as the real cause of disease, opens new avenues of information; but we continue to explore and discover. Any kind of thought opposite the good is sure to break forth into some form of disease-pictures, and the question is, what kind of thought is it which thus reflects itself upon the patient's body? All error will produce pictures of error. The world's naming of the belief in heredity is the naming of its greatest error, or belief in sin, because that implies all sins of the flesh as manifested in the body.

"Back of all effect is a cause; the disease is the effect, the wrong thought is the cause. One of the great causes of disease is sensual beliefs, the appetites and passions of the carnal man.

"It is error to suppose he is subject to conditions unlike God, the Source. 'He that is born of God, can not sin, because his seed remaineth in him.' Being in and controlled by the universal thought current, the error of supposition, he manifests it in his condition. Supposing consumption hereditary, he suffers from the supposition; supposing impurities of the blood transmitted through the flesh, he finds it even so. Supposition, false thinking, being at the bottom of all erroneous conditions, we proceed to deal with them as we do with any other errors or lies.

"When we seek for anything with a desire to gain happiness, it is because we hope to gain what our previous efforts have failed to bring us, so the one who comes to be healed by Christian Truth, comes with a hope at least that this will bring the health he has sought in vain from other sources. He has turned in all directions in response to the advice received from this or that one of the friendly advisers, so ready to constitute themselves the body guard of the world. He has tried doctors of every school; he has traveled east, west, north and south; he has plunged into healing waters of all kinds and had all kinds of healing waters plunged into him; he has been burned and steamed and pounded and starved, till he is finally disgusted enough to want something that will not harm if it will not cure, so he drags himself before us with possibly a gleam of hope, possibly the faithlessness of despair, and asks for a treatment.

"And now you wish to know in what a treatment consists; simply in silently telling the patient the truth about himself as God's child, in giving him the principles we have learned concerning God and man, and with earnest gladness assuring him of his freedom. For the benefit of the young practitioner, we will give a few directions or suggestive treatments.

"We ask the patient for a statement of his belief, which he is only too glad to give with elaborate and vivid details. We meet every statement with an emphatic mental denial.

"The faithful student who has fasted and prayed (denied and affirmed), is now the embodiment of one vast negative that should wipe out the positive belief of any inharmony. The patient, being in the belief of false conditions, is of one mind with the world, and so reflects the beliefs of mankind. That we may be sure of meeting all classes of false beliefs, we deny for him the reflection of any false conceptions of himself from the race, his parents and ancestors, his friends and associates, himself and ourself, for we are still one with humanity.

"Everybody has a conscious or unconscious belief in heredity, and since it is one of, if not the most formidable of human beliefs, we deal with it first as the possible cause of our patient's belief in suffering.

"After he has finished the statement of his condition, we say to him mentally: 'James Martin! Hear what I say, for I tell you absolute truth. Not one word of all this you have told me about dyspepsia is true, because the carnal mind, to which you have been listening, is not subject to the law of God, and you, the spiritual, immortal you, are subject to the mind of the spirit which recognizes the spiritual creation, therefore your spiritual self can not be sick or suffer from any inharmony.

"'This carnal mind belief named dyspepsia is not a condition of your real self. The belief of the race, ancestors, daily associates, yourself or myself in heredity and the sensual appetites can not be pictured forth by your body in the form of dyspepsia, because the real you is spiritual and not subject to material beliefs. It is utterly impossible for you, who are spiritual, to be influenced by any thought that is opposite the spiritual, as it is impossible for the light to coalesce with darkness.

"'You are God's child, made in His image and likeness, and must be perfect like Him, for His conditions are changeless and eternal. Listen to this glad message that tells you absolute Truth. Realize that as God's child you can not suffer, for spirit knows no suffering. You can not be weak, for God is your strength; you can not fear anything, for God is your refuge and fortress. 'God hath not given us the spirit of fear, but of love and of power and of sound mind.'

"'Listen to me!—The 'Truth sets free.'—Now, you are free. You gladly acknowledge the truth, and prove it in every thought, word and deed. Like the Master, I say unto you, 'Lazarus, come forth!' Come out of the errors in which you have been so long entombed, throw off the grave clothes of mortal thought, and rise to new thoughts, new conditions, a new life! Rejoice that you are whole, and let the world rejoice with you.... It is finished. In the hands of omnipresent Good, in the name of immaculate Truth, I leave you.

"'So may this be established, yea, it is already established. I thank Thee, Father, that thou hast heard me.'

* * * * *

"This lesson, John, is very hard to report. I find so many questions suggested to my mind, and so many if's and but's.

"Mrs. Pearl desired us each to take up a case for absent treatment, some one we would like to help, and from whom we could hear every day or so, or who would be under our personal notice. I am going to treat a little boy in the house where I board. It is quite a severe case of catarrh.

"I wish you would take a case, too. Just try this form of treatment that I have given. It may not seem clear to you at first, but it is not the words you are to remember so much as the ideas. Get the thought firmly fixed in your mind, and the words will come of themselves.

"You readily see it is using the same principle with the patient that has been applied in self training. First, the denial of all error, and then the affirmation of truth. This treatment is for any chronic condition, and is given twice a day, in the morning and at night.

"Now, I must say good-night. It is nearly eleven, and I really ought to say my denials and affirmations some more, besides giving my patient the treatment.

"With many kisses to the dear ones,

"I am your loving MARION."



CHAPTER XXXI.

"Once let friendship be given that is born of God, nor time nor circumstance can change it to a lessening; it must be mutual growth, increasing trust, widening faith, enduring patience, forgiving love, unselfish ambition and an affection built before the Throne, which will bear the test of time and trial."

—Allen Throckmorton.

"It seems to me, Grace, you have been touching up your complexion with some of the same paint as that in your roses," exclaimed Kate, playfully, as she inspected Grace rather critically.

"Really, Kate, you must be more careful, or I shall add the sin of vanity to my other faults," answered Grace, looking out of the window and smiling pleasantly, with the least touch of absent mindedness in her manner.

"No danger of that, you dear old Gracious, but if you should say secretiveness, I might be willing to stop," said Kate, boldly, yet hardly daring to look toward the window.

Grace did not answer, but continued looking out of the window for several minutes. "What makes you say that, Kate?" she asked at last, turning around soberly, while the rosy flush crept up to her temples and back of her ears.

"Oh, I don't know, Gracious, only it seems to me you are like a pure white lily bell, and I want to creep into your heart and live in its fragrance, but—" She stopped abruptly. It seemed as though the almost imperceptible veil of reserve was falling lower than ever.

Oh, why could she not gain Grace's confidence? These thoughts passed rapidly through her mind while she stood as if transfixed, waiting for Grace to break the interminable silence. If she had only known it, Grace was nearer to her at that moment than ever before, but with her eyes cast down, she saw not the yearning look on the face of her friend.

Grace spoke at last:

"But what, Kate?" she asked, taking up Kate's words where they had dropped.

"But the petals will not open, and I am left out," finished Kate, determined to be frank.

Grace looked out of the window again, and was about to reply, when a rap at the door startled them both. It was a boy with a note. "Miss Grace Hall?" he said, handing it to her.

Grace looked at the letter and then at the boy inquiringly. "I am to wait for an answer," he said.

"Oh," she murmured, in a dazed way, and hastened to find pen and paper for reply.

"More mystery! I declare, it is getting interesting," thought Kate, recovering herself, as she furtively watched the rosy face of Grace.

"Any answer?" asked the boy as he took the note.

"No." The door was shut and Grace sat down beside the picture she had been working upon, but presently arose and began pacing the room. Kate looked up at her as she passed, but said nothing. She could see that some deep thought was struggling for utterance, and wondered much.

After a few moments Grace stopped beside her. "I wish I might speak freely to you, Kathie, but—" she hesitated, "but it has never been natural for me to be confidential, and—"

She began her promenade again, but presently came back, and drawing her chair close up to Kate, told her the whole story, with long pauses and much hesitating speech.

"And now he is in the city; he—wants an answer. He has invited me to—ride with him—to-morrow."

"Surely, you will not refuse him that privilege?" cried the impetuous Kate, with visions of a romance unfolding in thrilling chapters before her very eyes.

"No, of course not," in a low tone, "but how shall I answer him?" The last was scarcely audible. It seemed almost as though she spoke to herself. With her forefinger she idly traced some hieroglyphics on her lap.