Throughout her writings we find Mrs. Eddy ever striving to lift thought from a material sense of the universe to the spiritual, and in Science and Health (p. 513) she says: "To material sense, this divine universe is dim and distant, gray in the somber hues of twilight; but anon the veil is lifted, and the scene shifts into light." This was borne out in an experience which came to the writer.
Facing the mountains to the northwest, one may gaze from a certain tiny cottage during a southern autumn and see, some miles distant, a hazy city, half hidden by its own busy smoke and the misty intervening space. Day after day passes with the uninterrupted view of gray city, somber hills beyond, and the barest outline of the ridge of mountains fading into the autumn sky.
One might live for days on the knoll which commands this view, without so much as suspecting that distant city, gray hills, and blurred mountains would, when the atmospheric condition became just right, lie at his feet a glimmering vision of beauty, pierced to the very heart of its hidden secrets by a blazing sun dipping beyond the Pacific. Once or twice during the fall months the haze is dispelled as if by magic, and then the spires and domes of the city gleam like a field of diamonds in the evening sunshine, the deepest recesses of the hills are revealed in their minutest outline, the mountains rise as clearly as if the distance had suddenly been swept away,—the entire spread of view becomes as a gigantic etching done in silver and set at the base of the knoll. That is the view one carries in his heart, talks about, and waits with patience for its reappearance; which contradicts the stretch of gray which to human eyes might seem to be an unbroken fact.
