woman, but of a different type from Mrs. d.y.k.e, "we may as well look at this matter in a sensible and candid light. Here are the facts: Mrs.

Hayden is a lovely and reliable woman. She has, as we all know, suffered everything from her headaches and dyspepsia, besides the limb that was broken at the fire. We see her well, and ought to believe what she says.

They often say, 'Truth is stranger than fiction.' An example has come to our door, and why should we refuse to believe, when the proof is so plain? For my part, I can believe though I do not understand, and I want to know what there is in Christian Healing."

Mrs. Grant had spoken, and as she usually did, turned the tide of thought in her direction.

"Why, yes, we all want to know if there is anything in it, but there is an if--"

"_If!_ There it is again! I've no patience with people who always tumble over an _if_. You can bar the very gates of heaven with that nipping little word. It means doubt, and doubt is the destroyer of faith which we _must_ have in this world, if we live at all."

Mrs. Grant unwittingly preached a little sermon, which not only served to quell the confusion, but gave them a helpful thought to carry home.

Scattering good seed seemed to be her mission, and many a good word dropped into fruitful soil, and took its time to bring forth.

CHAPTER IX.

"Soul, receive into thyself the warm and radiant life of heaven, to breathe it out again as spiritual fragrance over other lives, and so change this wilderness-world into the garden of the Lord! This is the lovely moral which hides within the roses of June, and makes more than half their sweetness."--_Lucy Larcom._

And Mrs. Hayden? The old expressions of joy seemed utterly inadequate to describe her feelings. It seemed that she was veritably dreaming of heaven, such a sense of largeness, of freedom, had come over her, so much wider was her horizon, so much more clearly could she see and understand the hard questions that had always puzzled her, and yet she had, as it were, just come to the edge of the beautiful flower-dotted, dew-besprinkled field that seemed spreading out before her. So long hopeless, so long hungry as she had been after this taste, she only hungered the more. Wonderingly she looked at herself walking about without pain; with an elastic step and the springing freshness of health; wonderingly she remembered the dull, nervous throbbing headaches, contrasted with the refreshing clearness, the joyous comfort and peace of mind which made thinking a tonic, and labor a luxury.

What a glorious strength of exhiliration seemed flowing in to her with every breath; how it expanded and thrilled her with its power! If this was life, what joy to live, to know and feel the gladness and beauty of G.o.d's beautiful world, and it must not be for her alone, but for all hungering, thirsting mankind. She must impart it to those who had been suffering and helpless like herself. It was even now flowing into her own family. Although Miss Greening had given her but the first and fundamental principles of the method, she had in many instances already demonstrated their worth and power. It soon grew to be a regular matter of course to treat every one in the family who seemed in need of a remedy for anything.

Mr. Hayden had frequently come home with neuralgia in his face, but after one or two attacks the unwelcome intruder vanished. The family medicine case, which had recently been replenished for the winter, was left to its own devices, and dust gathered on the necks and shoulders of the cough remedies, paregoric and hive syrup bottles, until they would have looked quite pitiful in their desertion, if anybody had seen them.

Jamie's one attack of croup yielded more readily to his mother's silent treatments than it ever had to hive syrup, and it was with a deep thankfulness, not unmixed with awe, that Mr. and Mrs. Hayden felt their little one at last free from his old, dreaded enemy. Never before had the children been so free from colds or ailments common to childhood, as this winter. Never before had there been such a seemingly reckless carelessness in wrapping them up, keeping them out of the draughts, or letting them eat just what was on the table.

"Why, it is like living in another world altogether," said Mr. Hayden, enthusiastically to one of the neighbors. "The children are so much happier, quieter, more peaceable. I tell you, it is like getting free from prison to come into this way of living, and my wife is getting stronger all the time. Of course you want it," he continued. "Come over some time, and we'll tell you more about it." Saying good night he walked away, leaving his friend to wonder if the entire family had not turned lunatics.

Enwrapped in the seamless robe of Truth, the sharp winds of worldly criticism seldom reach us, because we are no longer susceptible to their sharpness. A gentle mildness beams from every face, for beyond the veil of outward appearances we learn to discern the pure, perfect holiness of G.o.d's child--the divinity behind the bars. Not, however, till we know how to put on this wondrous robe are we invulnerable.

Although Mrs. Hayden had learned much and lived much in these last few months, there came a time, as the summer drew near, when it seemed that everything was slipping away from her. Not her health, except that her old headache occasionally threatened her, but things did not seem as clear to her. Many problems were only in a partial state of solution, and a vague dissatisfaction, a helpless discouragement took possession of her at times, very hard to bear, especially when contrasted with the light she felt had so long guided her. Of late even her treatments seemed almost fruitless. Her old-time impatience had manifested itself on several occasions, and one warm June morning she went about her work in a decidedly old-fashioned mood.

It was Monday, and in addition to the washing to be seen to, the little extra help to be rendered the girl, her husband had sent her a large case of strawberries to be put up, manlike, forgetting that this day at least was full. She was hastening to get them ready before the dinner hour, and the "picking up" of the sitting-room, so essential Monday mornings, had been left till a more convenient season.

Mabel had gone to school, while Jamie and Fred were playing in the sand in the back yard.

With her hands in the berries, and her thoughts busily engaged, she was suddenly roused from her reverie by the noisy entrance of Fred, who just came in for a drink of water. As he turned to go out, he threw his arms around his mother's neck and gave her a boy's impetuous hug, and a kiss that ought to have rejoiced any mother's heart, but this morning it annoyed her. "Run away, now; mamma hasn't time this morning," and she pushed him impatiently away. Just then the door bell rang, and Fred sprang to answer it. In another moment he ushered into her presence a shabbily dressed, poor, miserable looking woman, who immediately asked for a drink of water. "I can get it," said the ready Fred. While he was gone, the woman began her request:

"Plaze, Ma'am, would you be wantin' some garters to-day? They are warranted by the very man as made 'em. My boy is layin' sick, and his father is dead, and all my health has been took away carin' for him, and a friend of mine, she has been in this business a long time, and says it's very good some days, and she let me take her place to-day, so if you could take a pair or two to-day it would be very thankful I'd be, and I'm sure this boy would need a pair; they are only 25 cents, and will just fit; ain't they nice, my boy?" She poured her story out, as though there were no end to it, as she held up some brilliant red and blue elastics that quite dazzled Fred, who claimed them at once.

"I have not time to examine and choose this morning, and Fred, you do not need them now," said Mrs. Hayden, with some annoyance in her tone.

"Now, mamma, you didn't see my old ones, they ain't red and blue, nor stretchy, an' my stockin's come down all the time. See how wrinkly they are," and he held up a dusty little shoe with a sadly demoralized stocking above it, rich in holes as well as wrinkles. The stocking had been torn on a nail, he volubly explained. In his excitement Fred raised his voice, thus summoning Jamie to the scene with a rush that upset the dish of berries just picked over.

"_I_ didn't mean to, and I can pick them up again," and he swept his dirty little hands into the soft mushy pile, gathering berries, dust, stems or whatever happened to be in the way, dashing the miscellaneous mess into the clean berries that had escaped.

"Jamie, you careless child! how can you be so naughty? Go and wash your hands this minute! Fred, leave those things and stay out with Jamie, I can not have you around when there is so much to do!" and with an impatient gesture she brushed Jamie aside and began sorting the berries as best she could.

Fred started toward her with the elastics, saying:

"But, mamma, you haven't looked yet;"

"Well, you see my hands are full, and I can tell you just as well without looking."

"You always tell me to do as I am told," pouted Fred as he reluctantly departed.

Mrs. Hayden was ashamed and yet reckless with discouragement, and scarcely noticed the anxious pedlar, who stood waiting for some decisive word from her.

"I have no use for the supporters at present," she said at last. But as she noticed the look of despair slowly settling on the woman's face, she added, "but, if you are in such distress, I will let you leave two pairs. Take the 50 cents lying there on the shelf," pointing to the place. The woman was very grateful and soon went away with a brighter face.

For a long time after she was gone, her picture remained in Mrs.

Hayden's remorseful memory, though she put it away as much as possible and went on with her work. Jamie and Fred had quarreled several times, but even in peace, the fires of war were likely to burst out afresh, for it was always so when she felt this way.

As Mrs. Hayden sat in her own room that evening, reviewing the events of the day, which seemed the culmination of many days, it seemed that the Marion Hayden who had been so happy these last few months, improving in health and strength and ability to live a more useful life, and the Marion Hayden who had so miserably disgraced herself to-day, were far apart--in fact irretrievably separated. Where, indeed, had gone her power of self-control, her wisdom and tact in governing the children?

Why had she so harshly told Fred to run away from her when the dear child was only showing his affection according to his own nature? Such an active, impulsive yet loving child must be wisely dealt with, and she had often realized that with Fred, love must be the governing power, not force. To give way as she had to-day would be to lose her influence over him, not only because of repulsing the child himself, but because his critical eyes noticed every weakness and failure in her, to live up to her own code of morals laid down for him to follow.

Her accusing conscience asked why she had not questioned and tried to help that poor woman who, with all her ignorance, was doing the best she could, to solve life's problem.

After all, what had she, Marion Hayden, to offer the world while she had not yet conquered herself?

Oh, the bitterness of regret, the repining for wasted moments and lost opportunities! but here she was in her old groove of thought. Could she not try the new way, now that she so sorely needed it?

She would try; she would begin to look on the other side of these questions. She _would_ regain her footing in spite of her humiliating downfall, although there might still be a lingering sense of shame over her defeat.

Later, her husband came home. He tossed her a paper saying: "Here is something that will clear you up. Read it aloud. I just glanced over it, and found it very good." He threw himself upon the sofa, waiting for her to begin. Mechanically she took up the paper.

"'The Ubiquity of Good;' is this the article?"

"Yes, there are several just as strong as that one."

"Oh, I see; yes--I can hardly wait to read aloud," she exclaimed, running her eyes over the pages, instantly imbibing the spirit of the writer. She began with an awakening interest which increased till she was fairly electrified with delight.

Her husband looked at her in astonishment although it had much the same effect on him. "I thought you needed something like that;" he said, sitting bolt upright and looking at her. "You see, Marion, if you could only be as enthusiastic all the time as that woman is, you could do the works that she does, and be as positive too."

"I know it, and if I understood as well as she does, it would be different, but I know so little comparatively. Oh, if I could take lessons of the teacher she had--just listen, she says: 'I have just had the privilege of going through a cla.s.s in metaphysics taught by one who is conceded to be the best teacher in the world,' but," continued Mrs.

Hayden, "I've looked all over the paper and can't find the name of the teacher; queer, isn't it? Mayn't I subscribe for this paper, John, and I will ask her who this teacher is, when I send the subscription?"

"Well, yes, I think if you could get the benefit from every number you have from that, it would be money well invested," replied Mr. Hayden. In fact he was as much interested in this subject as she, and desired her to "go to the bottom of it," as he expressed it.

That night she retired with a new hope. If others could learn and demonstrate and keep, why could not she?

CHAPTER X.

"Oh, thou that pinest in the imprisonment of the Actual, and criest bitterly to the G.o.ds for a kingdom wherein to rule and create, know this of a truth, the thing thou seekest is already with thee, 'here or nowhere,' couldst thou only see!"--_Carlyle._