Ten years ago the life of a fellow worker impressed me so deeply that I never rested until I had discovered what it was that governed her conduct. She proved to be a Christian Scientist. Since that time I have used no other remedy than Christian Science for inharmony of any description. It would occupy too much space to refer, even briefly, to all the happiness that this wonderful teaching has brought into my experience, but I should like to give thanks for a very remarkable healing.
In 1915, while on a visit to South Africa, I had a sunstroke—not a serious one, but sufficiently severe to leave an intense dislike of heat or any bright light. Circumstances again took me to the same country; and although in many ways I loved it dearly, I was never happy there because I hated the warmth and the sun. Four years ago I returned to England, and gradually the memory of the fear faded. It had, however, never been rooted out.
Some time later I changed houses and went to live with a friend. The sitting room assigned to me was painted bright yellow, and my hostess, thinking it would be cheerful, had the walls of the bedroom washed a deep yellow also. At the windows of both rooms there were yellow curtains. It was not until I was settled, and had sat in one of the rooms for a short time, that I suddenly realized I could not endure the color of the walls. One moment they seemed to close in upon me, and the next I felt as though I were in a barren sunlit waste with no shade anywhere. All my old fears rushed upon me, and I was utterly terrified. There seemed to be something merciless, dominating, menacing in the brilliant color. I was unable to read, and sat shading my eyes or looking out into the garden.
