When I first seriously took up the study of Christian Science, I was a physical and mental wreck, suffering from inherited neurasthenia and all the ills associated with it, culminating in loss of speech, paralysis, loss of memory, and other ills. My healing was not instantaneous; but in five or six months I had recovered lost faculties. The very day on which I realized freedom, my youngest child was run over and seriously injured. He was carried home, and a kindly crowd took upon itself to bring two doctors, picked up in passing. Neither of these gentlemen had an anæsthetic, but the wound called for immediate attention. At this point I awakened to the power of Christian Science, and told them they need not worry, for no opiate would be necessary. I bent over the child and whispered to him that nothing could hurt God's little one; but what I had whispered, he proclaimed on the housetops: "Nothing can hurt God's little child," he repeatedly called out. The result was that the bone was scraped and cleaned, and the rest of the surgical work done, and he did not show a sign of nervousness or pain. When all was over both doctors said they had never had a case like it.
This same child one day complained of sore throat. I knew what the trouble was to material sense, so in accordance with the law I kept the other children home from school and sent for a doctor; but I also telegraphed to a Christian Science practitioner. The doctor diagnosed the case as diphtheria and reported it. That night the child was delirious, and the next morning the doctor said he must go to the isolation hospital. I immediately sent another wire to the practitioner. When the ambulance came there was no nurse with it, and having a little knowledge of hospital methods I refused to let the child go.
The sanitary inspector then went off for the medical officer of health and when the latter came, he apologized for not having sent a nurse, but said they were very busy. He looked at the child, examined the throat, and on being asked if he thought the boy had the disease mentioned he said he did not; that there were not the usual symptoms and he would not feel justified in exposing the boy to infection in a diphtheria ward. The child was in bed several days, but he was quite happy and well. On one occasion when the doctor came, the child was singing our beloved Leader's hymn. "O gentle presence" (Hymnal, p. 240). ''You must not let him sing," he ordered; but nothing could stop the singing, for God was with him, the "gentle presence" was there.
