A year ago now, my husband and myself were perfectly hopeless,—broken in fortune and health, old age coming on, and deserted by friends, my husband with only now and then a day's work, our main support what little money I could make selling home-made candy. Surely no dungeon was ever darker, or two people more unhappy. Among my patrons for candy was a Christian Scientist. True to her trust, like music ring her words even now: "You need Christian Science." But for a time her suggestions fell on indifferent ears.
My husband and I had joined the Baptist Church when we were children, but in maturer years we joined the Methodist. Growing restless under the contradictory explanations of God's methods and character, we became persuaded that there was a little more rationality in the Universalist doctrine, and although we did not become members of that body, we felt happier in its doctrine of Love. But as for me, with the multiplication of hardships, our industry coming to naught, my prayers unanswered, I became desperate, declaring at times there was no God, or if there was He did not care for His children.
My husband's favorite expression, "We must be resigned to God's will," made me still more rebellious, and elicited the declaration on my part that if I thought God sent me such want and poverty when we both were so willing to work, I should hate Him. Surely the red dragon in my heart was nearing his doom.
