REMINISCENCES.

If any one were to be asked what is the permanent element in human existence, and if he were to think deeply before answering the question, he would be compelled to admit that thought—not things, nor even persons —withstood the shocks of time and circumstance; being first the scaffolding, and later the solid masonry of individual character.

So as I endeavor to recall that which makes up my personal history, almost my earliest recollection is of a very old church in Scotland,—said to have been built before the Reformation,—and a truly fitting monument of those

And what was the Reformation? was my childish question. The answer was not lacking in interest and brought history down to the days of my Covenantry forefathers, until a burning desire for civil and religious liberty began to take form in my childish consciousness; and though faint and nebulous, and unsuspected even by those who gave the thought, the substance was slowly but surely solidifying for the after life work.

A single incident like the following will show the trend of thought, as the individual temperament seizes upon that which especially appeals to its feelings and emotions, the poet and the painter seeing all nature and time bringing contributions to art, and the religious reformer linking together the experiences written along the world's pathway, and pointing the way to universal deliverance.

When about six years of age, I was my father's companion on a journey to the north of Scotland and asked many questions about the places along the coast. On the deck of the steamer near us was a clergyman who very kindly gave us much information, and pointing to the ruins of an old castle said that in the days of the Covenanters a number of men had been driven on foot by the cruel soldiery from the South to this place, where, foot-sore and weary, they begged of their captors the poor privilege of resting a while in the sunshine beside a stream which came down from the hills above, 'ere they were committed to their gloomy prison. The soldiers said they might do this if they would sing a song, and there those who for conscience sake had given up their homes, dear ones, and liberty, lifted up their voices and sang the 137th Psalm.

Nothing can efface the memory of those early days when a tender father did all that earthly parent could do to fan the sacred flame of religious faith and devotion, and above all to teach me to love the Bible by associating it with all that is glorious in human history and achievement.

When eight years of age, whole chapters were stored up in my memory and they never were forgotten. Sometimes these were studied under the ruined walls of an old castle where there was still to be seen a hiding place for the Bible used at a time when it was unlawful to own or to read one in Scotland.

At length the dear father became very ill,—there was no help, the doctors said, no relief even from the most agonizing suffering, and then the whole heart went out in a wild prayer for deliverance to the Christ who had healed the sick long centuries before. Alas for that hour when the child developing into womanhood was told that such healing had left the world with Jesus of Nazareth, that there were other ways and means now; and yet no help could be found in this hour of sorest need. It almost seemed as if the French cynic was right who said that "Faith has one logic and fate another." With the death of the dear father came the deepest desire to devote the whole of my life to aiding the sick, fully convinced that God must have a way to help His children could it only be found.

The Presbyterian Church into which I had been born, so to speak, received me as a member at an early age, and for its ministrations and teachings I have the profoundest gratitude, for it taught me to long for and to hope for the re-appearing of the Christ.

After my marriage and during a few years' residence abroad, while a very great sufferer from neuralgia, bronchitis, and other ailments, my faltering hope and faith were kindled anew by a most eloquent sermon from the lips of a famous preacher. The text was from the 68th Psalm, 20th verse. In this light I walked for some months, and then came the illness and death of my baby boy. Again there was the verdict, no help, from the best physicians. In this hour of the deepest gloom an almost audible voice told me that deliverance was near at hand for all who walked in darkness, nor was I disappointed.

Soon after my return to this country Christian Science was brought to my notice through some wonderful cases of healing. In spite of the direst need of help by myself and family, prejudice and bigotry were allowed to hold me in bondage until at length I was actually "driven by suffering to the foot of the Mount" (Miscellaneous Writings, p. 328).

While waiting looking for a sign from heaven, it came with a shock that threatened to crush my heart. My little boy found a bottle of carbolic acid which had been left on the table, drew the cork, and swallowed a considerable quantity of the contents. His agonizing screams brought me to him, and the next half hour would be too painful to recall were it not that it stands to-day in memory as the entrance into Life. A physician who was called said that nothing could be done except to administer an opiate to lessen the terrible suffering. Another who was summoned said that nothing could be done at that stage, but that later there might be an operation in order to enable the child to swallow, if he lived, flow true it is that, "man's extremity is God's opportunity." As materia medica had nothing to offer, I sought God through the open door of Christian Science. The child was treated absently that day, and relief from pain was the immediate result. He was still unable to swallow at all. Next morning a present treatment was given, and within an hour he ate the whole of an apple, including the skin. I do not wonder that many find this difficult to believe; indeed, I thought it was a dream when I saw it, but the Master's voice came ringing down the centuries, "And these signs shall follow them that believe;... and if they drink any deadly thing, it shall not hurt them." What words can tell the blessedness of that hour? It was not merely the child given back to life, but all the hopes and prayers of the early years had come to a resurrection morn. The Bible was true, not one word of its good promises had failed, God was seen at last and seen as Love.

After this experience came at once the reading of Science and Health, and what a revelation it brought! I was deeply impressed with the consciousness of a new sense being unfolded with power to discern the creative thought lying behind the phenomena of existence, and the close study of this most wonderful book filled me with delight.

I began to see why the study of metaphysics had done so much to elevate and refine human thought. The Greek philosophy had seemed as beautiful as their imperishable sculptures, but both alike needed the touch of the quickening Life to move the world onward toward God.

In the Christian metaphysics of Christian Science this Life was revealed, and I found not only the "Key to the Scriptures," but a means of finding all the treasures in the world's best literature; for never were words of Truth and beauty written on deathless page that existed not first in the divine Mind. The book held me no less by its spiritual power and insight than by its unexampled purity and grace of diction. Day by day its teaching opened up to me the long-hidden riches of the word of God, through which all may hold communion with prophets, apostles, and saints, and sit at the feet of our Lord and Master and be made whole.

Not many weeks went by until I was going out with a light heart to tell the tidings of great joy to all who would listen to my words; and now, at the end of sixteen years of "endless toil and endeavor," the task is sweeter than ever, though at the beginning I thought that in less than a decade the whole world would have accepted this Truth.

One morning stands out in memory, it was the first meeting with our Leader in the College at Boston, Mass., on a cold February day. I was removing my wraps in the corridor, preparatory to going to the class room, when a gentle voice bade me good morning. What a thrill passed through me; and as I looked up into the depths of those loving eyes my own filled with tears of joy that God had been so gracious to me and enabled me to become a student of Mary Baker Eddy. I cannot disassociate from this meeting a little demonstration which must do good to many. My numerous ailments had been disappearing one by one since I had first accepted the Truth, but on this morning my hands were very cold,—a condition or belief which had troubled me from childhood. As Mrs. Eddy took them in her own she said as a mother would to her child, "Are your hands cold?" I think I said, "Oh no!" for my whole heart was so warmed with her loving welcome that the hands were forgotten, but as I went into the class room I became very conscious of an indescribable glow and warmth going over the whole body, and I have never suffered from cold hands since. It was the healing touch of her great sense of Love.

It is said that Plato was accustomed to thank his Maker for two things: First, That he was born in a country so enlightened and cultivated as Greece. Second, That he had Socrates for his master.

As a Christian woman I am deeply thankful for living in an age of wonderful progress and enlightenment,—an age when intelligence and integrity are rapidly becoming the controlling forces in human society, and when the power of the Christ is the greatest factor in the world. I rejoice in the glorious outlook for all humanity coming through the revelation of Christian Science, for even now the dense and tenacious beliefs in sickness, sin, and death are yielding up their claim to recognition as necessary factors of human existence, and the absolute supremacy of God—Good—is being admitted as the most important proposition that human thought can grasp.

I am unspeakably thankful that in the good providence of God I was permitted to be Mrs. Eddy's student, for the clearness of her teaching and the largeness of her character have been a perpetual inspiration and benediction in the sacrament of daily duty. In response to a question asked in the class room on a certain occasion, she gave us this thought: that it was well for us to decide upon the characters of those with whom we associated by their influence upon us. I at once began to apply this test to herself, and I found that no one had ever roused me so thoroughly to see the imperative demands of God's law, and the absolute necessity of unwavering obedience to the Ten Commandments and the Sermon on the Mount. Besides this, I have had the fullest opportunities for observing her influence upon her other students, and when they have been loyal to this high teaching, they have grown up to a moral stature which is an admitted power for good wherever they go.

She has taught us how to pray and to know that the answer is at hand awaiting our worthiness to receive it. She has taught us that Life is Good, and so we learn to live; and she is teaching us how to love since God is Love and God is all.

Was it toward this that Coleridge aspired when he wrote